


Ages

by Xazz



Series: Flocking Movement [2]
Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: America, American War of Independence, Apple - Freeform, F/M, Gen, Philadelphia, Piece of Eden, Revolutionary War, Templars, immortal ancestors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-12
Updated: 2012-06-12
Packaged: 2017-11-07 14:41:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/432267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xazz/pseuds/Xazz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The year is 1778 and it's a war out there. When an Assassin by the name of Micheal gets sent to Philadelphia to deal with some Templars he gets more then he bargained for out of the entire thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Getting to the Point

It was uncharacteristically warm in the Appalachians lately and Micheal was sweating heavily in his coat. In the higher elevations he could see snow, taunting him from horseback. He bowed his head away from them and looked back at the party he was leading. The family had paid good French gold to be taken across the mountains and into the unclaimed territory beyond the mountains and Micheal was the one who’d draw a short straw and been sent on this mission. He didn’t mind though, he wasn’t much one for the bloody work the others participated in. So really it wasn’t such a short straw since it was better then being sent to Philadelphia or Boston or New York and watching over Templars.

Or at least it was when the weather was nice. But he’d rather be stuck along the shore line chasing phantoms than here in the hot valleys of the Appalachians guiding a family along over-glorified deer trails. He knew along the coast there were breezes and the air wasn’t nearly as suffocating as it was out here under the thick trees and stagnant air caught in the cups of valleys.

He blew air out of his mouth loudly, flapping his lips annoyedly. At least he was almost done. Just a day’s more of travel and they’d be out beyond the reach of the British crown.

“Hold a moment Mr. Weston,” the father, Zachary, called and Micheal halted his horse and turned in the saddle. Oh bother what was it now? He really hoped it wasn’t that wife of his acting like a damsel again. Micheal had really very little patience for damsels when he was more afraid of the sisters of his Order than any brother, for they were the most fiercesome, especially when they were bleeding.

“What is it now?” he asked with a bit of a sigh. This family was almost more trouble than their gold was worth. But the Mentor had ordered it so he would see it to completion. His sharp brown eyes scanned the family, all of them walking and with a single tiny wagon pulled by a pony, a man, his wife and four children; three sons and an adventurous daughter who didn’t know the first things about being a ‘lady’. Unlike that pompous wife of his who thought she was the damn Queen of Spain. Of the bunch he liked the daughter the most, she was the most interesting and usually trotted along next to Clipper who plodded stoically through any sort of brush. Speaking of where was that girl?

“We’ve lost Sarah,” Zachary said.

“I highly doubt that,” Micheal muttered to himself and even Clipper seemed unimpressed because he gave an unamused snort and shook his mane. “Again?” he asked in a louder voice.

“You act as if you expected it,” spat Melissa, she didn’t like Micheal, the feelings were obviously mutual. She probably disliked the attention her daughter gave to a ‘wildlife guide’ and ‘tracker’.

“She’s a smart girl, I doubt she got to far,” Micheal said simply and swung off from Clipper’s broad back. “You stay here, I’ll go find her,” and he draped Clipper’s reigns over a low hanging branch, he was to well trained to wander off, unlike these folks who would if he didn’t tell them otherwise and get lost in a matter of minutes.

Micheal walked past them back down the way they’d come looking for sign of disturbance a bit off the trail. He’d only walked about ten minutes before he found an awkwardly broken twig. He huffed a soft sigh and rolled his eyes upward before leaving the barely-more-than-a-deer-trail and plunged into the bush around it. It didn’t take him long to locate the shoes Sarah had left behind or the piece of her dress that had torn off when she’d climbed a tree.

“I bet you think you’re funny,” he called up the tree where he could see her tattered yellow dress through the boughs.

“Extremely,” a girlish voice called back down.

“Get down here before your mother scolds you after viciously murdering me for allowing you to climb a tree,” he held onto his hat as he strained his neck upward trying to find her face. He heard her give a terribly theatric sigh. “At least be reckless when I am not liable for it as well Sarah, it isn’t very nice.”

A few seconds later he heard the branches and leaves rustling and looked away quickly when the girl started to climb down to not accidentally see up her skirt. He knew well enough he’d get a slap for that. Heaven forbid if Melissa _ever_ find out, even if it was an accident; they’d never find his body. Shortly after the girl was in front of him fit as a fiddle with her already stained dress even more stained from her decent, knees no doubt knobby and her feet were filthy. “Here I am,” she said cheerfully.

Micheal wasn’t amused. “Put your shoes on, we need to get going,” he told her.

She frowned, “Yes Mr. Bossy,” she huffed and bent down to put them on. Sarah was only about fourteen years old with ashen brown hair that already looked like it was turning gray. He wouldn’t be surprised if it was since her father was only about thirty and already was more gray than brown himself.

“Come along now,” he gave her a gentle push in the right direction and got them back on the trail. “Please stop running off, it’s doing nothing but wasting my time and your father’s. He’s very keen on getting a homestead set up before he losing his chance to plant any crops.”

“Bah, how boring,” Sarah said walking in front of him so he would be sure she wouldn’t run off again. He swore he was just going to tie her to Clipper’s saddle so she couldn’t get to far anymore because after two weeks this was getting totally ridiculous. Shame he hadn’t thought of this _before now_ when there wasn’t much time left before they reached Pittsburgh, a town small enough to be ignored by the Crown but just one of the many towns that made the British Royalty loath the Colonies. It for that reason that the entire coast was practically flooded with Red Coats and why these people were trying to get as far from them as they could. “Who wants to be a farmer’s daughter? Everyone’s a farmer’s daughter?”

“I’m sure Washington’s daughter is very happy to be a farmer’s daughter,” Micheal said idly. Sarah gave him the dirtiest look and he half regretted that. He should know better than to say that when his sisters back home wouldn’t have let him get away with it either.

“Does he even have a daughter?” she snapped.

Micheal's mouth worked a moment then he sighed, “Yes, one in fact and she’s a bit of a brat.”

“Hmm, good thing I’m not a farmer’s daughter then,” she sniffed smartly. Micheal just rolled his eyes again.

“And what would you be instead?” Why was he doing this to himself?

“I don’t know. Something adventurous.”

“Like?”

“Like to do with one of those Sons of Liberty,” she grinned at him. Micheal didn’t reply in like since most of them were his enemy. As it was the Order tolerated them because they were for once working towards the same means, it didn’t mean the two factions got along. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those loyalists.”

“If I was I’d have turned you into the authorities and not out here,” he reminded her. 

“Oh right,” she wrinkled her nose at him before turning away. It didn’t take much longer for them to hear the noise from Sarah’s family in the woods and Micheal cringed, normal people made so much noise!

“Found her,” he proclaimed when they came into eyeshot.

“Sarah!” Melissa cried in delight and ran to scoop her daughter up into her arms before scolding her sharply in Scottish. Sarah just stood there and took it looking disillusioned about the whole thing. Micheal passed them silently.

“We ready to keep going?” he asked Zachary as he walked past, the man just nodded and Micheal went to Clipper’s side who was nibbling at some moss he’d found on the tree. “Well I can’t wait till this is done, how about you boy?” he asked softly to the horse who perked up at the sound of his voice and nickered. “I agree,” and he stepped up into the stirrup before sitting himself firmly on Clipper’s back. “Lets get going folks,” he called back, “We can make Pittsburgh by tonight if we keep moving,” and he was sure he heard at least one person sigh.

—

Micheal enjoyed the silence of the forest now that it wasn’t cluttered with the noise of a wagon, pony and six people who didn’t have a silent bone in their body. He’d left Pittsburgh a few days ago and was headed home at a much swifter pace then it had taken him to get there. The weather had finally broken and it finally felt like spring at this elevation, leaving him cool and comfortable in his white coat. At his pace he guessed he’d reach the Point by week’s end which was good news for him since he missed the view and his bed. Yes definitely his bed. He missed his friends too and his mother. But in a week he’d be back home and everything would be as it was and Pittsburgh would be behind him; thank God.

It was on the second night that he realized he was being followed. He didn’t know by who though so acted as if nothing was wrong. That was always the best to do actually when you were being tracked, just act as you would and eventually they’d slip up and practically fall onto your blade. At least most people did, Templars usually weren’t that dumb. He doubted he was dealing with a Templar though, they didn’t operate this far west, not yet at any rate.

The third night he was proved right.

He was gathering wood for the fire when he came upon a set off shoe prints in damp soil. He pretended to not see them and went on his way listening closely to the sounds around him. He could hear insects and birds as well as small lizards and mammals scurrying in the underbrush. Under that though he heard something _larger_ moving. It could be a cougar, or a bear, in which case he’d be running as fast as he could in the other direction, but he knew it wasn’t. It didn’t _sound_ like one of those animals, it sounded too _human_.

A sense tickled at the back of his throat and as he rose from picking up a piece he reached into a hidden sleeve within his coat and pulled out a throwing knife. A twig snapped and blindly he twisted and threw the knife. There was a scream and a thud of the knife hitting a tree. “Great heavens what is wrong with you?” a familiar voice cried.

Quickly he cursed to himself wishing God to just smite him where he stood as he saw his vision of home vanish before his eyes. Why why why did Sarah have to be here? He sent her a stern look from under his hat.

“You threw a knife at me!” she cried trying to pull it out of the tree were it was pinning part of her dress.

“You were following me,” he growled dropping his firewood and stalking over to her. “Why aren’t you with your family?” he demanded.

“I told you, I’m not a farmer’s daughter,” she said.

He groaned and yanked the knife from the bark with little trouble. “You should not _be here._ It is dangerous.”

“Well that’s why I’ve been following you. You seem pretty good about the whole ‘danger’ thing,” she grinned.

“I’m taking you back to Pittsburgh first thing in the morning,” he told her sternly and grabbed her wrist, “Your parents must be worried sick!”

“Yeah so?” she asked right back trying to pull her wrist back but having little success. “Let go.”

“Yes and you will just wander off again and get yourself killed. I think not,” and he dragged her through the woods to where he’d let Clipper rest, having taken off most of his tack save for bridle. One-handed he grabbed a good length of rope from his pack and fashioned a one handed shackle around Sarah’s wrist before tying the other end to Clipper’s bridle. Clipper looked at Sarah balefully as if he knew she was in trouble.

“What are you doing?” she shrieked as he did so and tried to work the knot. He didn’t worry about her getting it undone, it was a knot that could only be undone by cutting it.

“Making sure you don’t wander off,” he scolded her and left the small campsite to finish gathering firewood before it got to dark. When he returned Sarah was sitting by the tree he’d wrapped Clipper’s reigns around pouting and looking sullen. She glared at him when he approached. “You brought this upon yourself,” he told her.

“I don’t want to go to Pittsburgh,” she complained.

“Yes and a young girl like you wandering around unknown forests is a much better idea.”

“I wasn’t worried, I was going to follow you back home where my friends are,” she said sourly still pouting.

“And what if I wasn’t going there?”

“I’d figure something out,” she proclaimed as he pulled flint from his bag and gathered up some dry leaves for tinder. He had a fire started quickly building a pyramid around it before adding larger branches. Once he had the fire going he went to get more wood, coming and going several more times before finally satisfied he had enough to last the night.

“You aren’t a very smart girl,” he told her as the sun set and he pulled out his fresh rations from Pittsburgh.

“My father says I’m very clever,” she proclaimed proudly.

“Clever and stupid,” he drawled and tossed her a loaf of bread. She was so surprised she almost didn’t catch it, “I bet you haven’t eaten since we left Pittsburgh have you?” he asked as she looked down guiltily. “Didn’t bring rations, probably no money, one change of clothes, no tools or equipment, you’re not very well on your way to surviving out here in the woods Sarah,” he smeared some jam on his bread but didn’t offer her any.

“I know,” she said softly, “I just didn’t want to stay there,” she still hadn’t eaten any of her bread. “Please don’t take me back,” she looked up at him, pleading with her eyes. He wasn’t moved in the slightest.

“No,” he said.

“Why not?”

“Because you have no one to go back to back east that’s why! Do you want to become a beggar or a whore?” he demanded. “Because that’s all that awaits you in the east. You have no family, none close enough to take you in, you’re young and have no skills. At best you could become a maid, but who wants a family-less maid? You’re vastly overestimating yourself,” he couldn’t believe he was actually scolding her. But he was angry so he didn’t care. He was going to be home in about four days and now he had to go all the way back to Pittsburgh! He could pull his hair out. If the Creed didn’t prevent it he’d just cut her throat and be done with it, a girl lost in the woods and a bear got to her. It happened all the time. He sighed into his bread, it wasn’t a good idea to think such thoughts.

He looked up and saw she was near tears. Oh hell. He hated crying more than anything. It was like girls thought it was the magic spell that would make men do anything for them. Having grown up with a mother and surrounded by women he’d never seen cry to get what they wanted so he wasn’t at all impressed. “Don’t you even start, it won’t get you anywhere,” he told her sternly and dug into his bread with prejudice.

“You’re so cruel,” she sniffed.

“So I’ve been told,” he said curtly around his mouth full of food. “Traits of the trade.”

“And what would that be? Being a pompous bastard?” she suddenly snarled. Micheal actually started and stared at her. “If you take me back to Pittsburgh I’ll just follow you again,” she claimed.

“Then I’ll just tie you up so you can’t,” he nodded at the knot around her wrist.

“Micheal _please_ ,” she pleaded, “Don’t take me back, I’ll do anything.”

“Be careful what you say, if I wasn’t such an honorable man I’d take advantage of such a statement,” he gave her a pointed look.

“I’ve never met an honorable man who doesn’t do as a lady requests.”

“You ain’t no lady,” he grumbled dusting crumbs off his hands and reaching back into his pack for some jerky.

“Beside the point!”

He sighed and gnawed at the dried meat, “I’m taking you back,” he said. He was surprised when she threw the loaf at him and it hit him square in the head. It was three day old bread and actually startled him. “What in God’s name was that for?” he demanded grateful the loaf landed in his lap and was still good to eat.

“You’re a terrible person forcing people to do something against their will.”

“Look girl-

“You’re barely older than me, you got no right ‘girling’ me,” she snapped.

“I’m not going to where I picked your family up. I’m going home and trust me, you don’t want to go there,” he said putting the bread away, if she was going to throw his food he gave her at him fine, he was just going to keep it for himself.

“And where do you call home Mr. Weston?” she asked in as bitter a voice a girl her age could muster which was a surprising amount. “Probably a place where they teach you to throw knives at people,” she huffed.

“Yes actually, they do,” he nodded extremely tired of this conversation. “And a lot of other stuff that would make your stomach crawl.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, “I am not some dainty flower.”

“Oh, I know that very well. But it makes me uncomfortable too, I can only imagine what it would do to you,” he gave her a pointed look hoping the conversation was over. He was out of luck however.

“Try me.”

“I’d rather not, I just ate,” he blinked at her over the fire and realized that it was dark out.

She stared at him but said nothing more. He turned away from her finally and took off his gear, putting it to the side but within easy reach should he needed. It included his sleeve of throwing knives, a dagger and several bombs he kept on his person in case he needed to make an escape.

“For a guide you have an awful lot of weapons. You don’t even have a hunting knife,” Sarah said after a while of watching him check the sharpness of his throwing knives and deciding the one that he’d used earlier needed a bit of sharpening. His reply was the grind of the steel on the sharpening stone. “And you don’t like the Sons of Liberty but you aren’t a loyalist,” she added, “I doubt you’re really a guide,” he still didn’t answer her. Let her talk all she wanted he was done talking and wanted morning to come so they could be on their way back to Pittsburgh. “Is Micheal Weston even your real name?” she asked after he’d finished his sharpening and tucked the small knife away.

“No actually, it isn’t,” he said looking at her finally.

“What is it then?” she asked.

“Why would I tell you?”

“I’m just a girl, remember?”

“Ah, a stupid man would think that,” he said, “I’ve been taught to not take things at face value. Sure you’re a girl, but I know plenty of girls and they all would beat me up if I tried to tell them they were ‘just’ girls.”

“Your sisters? You mentioned them before,” she said.

“Yes, my sisters,” he bobbed his head.

“How many do you have?”

“…Several,” was all he said.

“How many is several?”

“Stop nosing in my business kid,” he growled.

“I’m not a kid. I’m fourteen years old and old enough to take care of myself just fine.”

“Which is why you’re here around my fire and not your own,” he said and she flushed. “More reason I’m taking you back.”

She bit her lip but said nothing looking away and Micheal ignored her picking himself up off the ground to tie Clipper more firmly to the tree. He knew the bay would never just walk off on his own but he didn’t trust Sarah not to try and make the horse leave with her. He also gave him a handful of oats which the bay seemed to greatly appreciate.

“If you take me back to Pittsburgh I’ll kill myself,” Sarah said out of no where.

He turned quickly, “What?”

“You heard me,” she said staring at him. He looked down at her a bit aghast that she would even say that. “I mean it,” she added and the scary part was that she did indeed look like she meant it.

Micheal sighed and ran a hand down his cheek. What in God’s name was he going to do? Taking her back to her family was the most rationally sane choice but that now seemed like a very bad idea if she was going to hurt herself if he did. He definitely couldn’t take her back to where she’d come from. She had nothing for her there except a life of poverty. He muttered a curse when he realized what the best option really was. He’d have to take her with him.

“Fine,” he finally said. “I won’t take you back to Pittsburgh.”

“Really?” she asked excitedly.

“I can’t let an innocent get hurt, even if they’re going to go and do it themselves. So you’re coming with me.” She grinned at him and he sighed, this was going to be an interesting next few days.

—

They could see the compound now, sitting precariously on the cliff side overlooking a valley that was thick with forest and had a large blue eye of a lake at it’s bottom. He could already hear the screams of eagles and turned his head up to watch one of the many wild eagles fly through the sky above them.

“That’s it?” Sarah asked from the saddle in front of him.

“Yep,” he nodded his eyes returning to the proud stone walls that surrounded the compound.

“Why would you live so far up in the mountains?”

“Why does anyone live in the mountains? To be away from people,” he said.

“It seems lonely.”

“Heh, hardly,” he chuckled, “There are several hundred people living in there,” he nodded at the fort’s direction.

“You’re lying,” she claimed, “It isn’t nearly big enough. It looks smaller than Pittsburgh!”

“Well they don’t all live there at the same time. Everyone is always coming and going,” and as if to prove a point they heard the sound of hooves coming towards them. A few heart beats later a man on a horse came down the path. Micheal saluted to the man as they passed noticing his higher rank and the other simply nodded but mostly ignored him. Unlike Micheal he wore a hood and didn’t wear a coat like him, rather he wore the proper uniform of someone with a hit, unlike Micheal who wasn’t.

“Who was that?” Sarah asked once the man was passed. 

“I don’t know,” he shrugged.

“You saluted him.”

“He’s my superior.”

“Are you militia?”

He chuckled, “You could say,” he said.

“Do the Sons of Liberty know you’re here?”

“I would hope not or that would be very problematic,” and he raised his hand to more of her questions as he had done several times during their journey.

She frowned but relented, but only for a moment, “So what’s this place called again?”

“It doesn’t really have one. The Shawnee call this area Eagle Point for all the eagles, so we call it that as well. Or even more simply The Point.”

Sarah giggled, “That sounds silly. We’re going to the Point.”

“Think whatever you want, you’ll be staying here for a while, pray the Master finds something useful for you to do and not maid’s work,” and he gave her a look to stop her from asking yet _more_ questions. He’d told her that all her questions would be answered once they got there, or he hoped at least, he also hoped he didn’t get saddled with her. Of course her precise future was yet to be determined.


	2. City of Brotherly Love

The picture behind the Master’s desk was a far cry from the man who actually sat behind it. It was old, Micheal knew that at least, and was said to have been painted by Leonardo da Vinci, a master of the Renaissance. The painting was a portrait of a man in his middle years with brown hair worn in a horse tail you could make out under the shadow of his black hood. His eyes however were lost in shadow but he wore a very characteristic scar on his mouth, slashed down across his lips which seemed almost to wear a permanent smirk or smile as if he found himself sitting for a portrait to be vastly amusing. He wore the black robes of the Mentor and even though it was just a painting every inch of the canvas radiated the power of the man. His name was Ezio Auditore, the founder of the current reincarnation of the Order as well as pretty much the crush of every girl at Eagle Point with two eyes. Even two hundred years dead the guy could have gotten more girls than anyone Micheal had or probably would ever meet.

The current Master however was a far cry from the alluring predator Ezio was. He was old for starters with a bald spot and what hair he had left was erratic. His desk was perfectly in order including the curled pigeon slips that requested aid from all over the colonies from the den leaders. He was looking over these now searching for a specific one while Micheal and four of his brothers stood in front of his desk waiting. Micheal looked down at his hand and picked at the nail bed boredly.

Finally the Mentor made a noise in his throat and everyone looked up at him any boredom forgotten. “You five are going to Philadelphia,” he said gruffly. “I’m sure you’re wondering why I’m sending you there myself and not Joshua,” none of them mentioned it but it was very much in the back of their minds. “This is a high priority mission, so I’m handling it personally. I’ve been told you all work well in a group and since several of our brothers I might have sent are busy in Boston and New York you’ve been given this assignment instead. There has been increased Templar movement in Philadelphia, I’m sending you boys to go root them out,” Micheal felt himself grin, just a little, this was a pretty big mission after all. “Do what you have to too make sure that that city doesn’t fall into Templar hands as the den leader is up to her ears with problems and surprisingly the least of which is Templars.”

“Red Coats sir?” Sam asked a few people down.

“Indeed, bastards.”

“Quick question sir,” Trevor piped up this time, the Mentor nodded, “I know we’re hunting Templars… but, the Red Coats?”

“You’re still Americans aren’t you boys?” he barked.

“Yes sir!” they yelled.

“That’s all the answer you need than,” he said. “You boys leave in the morning so say your goodbyes before then. Make sure you speak with the den leader before you start your mission, she can give you more information. Henry will deliver your destination later tonight, that is all,” and he dismissed them, the five of them gave a salute and then filed out the door.

“You up for this Micheal?” Dill teased him, they all knew he wasn’t much for blood.

Micheal sent him a dirty look, “I’ve been on more missions than all you so why do you ask dumb questions?” he demanded.

“Aw don’t take it the wrong way Mike,” Sam threw his arm around his shoulder as they left the main building, “We’re just looking out for ya. Get it?” he grinned a bit.

“I’m not some kid who can’t handle blood,” Micheal reminded them sternly. “I’ve done my fair share of hits.”

“Yeah yeah, we know,” Dill sighed and collectively they rolled their eyes. “I’ll see you fellows in the morning,” he added when they finally got outside and parted from the group.

“Who’s getting the message from Henry?” Trevor asked, “The Master didn’t say.”

“Probably Mike here, he’s the eldest-

“And highest ranked,” Micheal added pointedly.

“Was just about to get to that mate,” Sam grinned, Micheal pushed his arm off. As good a friend as Sam was he was a bit annoying, especially with that strait-off-the-boat British accent of his which didn’t impress anyone. “I’ll see you chaps tomorrow than,” and left as well whistling some sort of pub song.

“See you after breakfast,” Micheal said to the two still left and took his leave as well a street over. As he walked he thought of all the things he’d have to do to get ready for tomorrow. He needed to check his weapons and make sure his hidden blade was clean, pack a bag and stop by at his mother’s to say goodbye. That could wait till later though, it wasn’t even dark yet, simply getting there.

His mind was elsewhere as he unlocked the door to his home and thus didn’t notice that the door was already unlocked. Inside he stepped out of his boots already thinking he should go make sure Clipper was in proper shape, not that he didn’t trust the stable hands but a guy had to look after his own horse didn’t he?

“You are really thinking too hard if you unlocked an already unlocked door,” he looked up quickly from his musing.

“You’re back,” he grinned at Sarah standing there in front of him and he stumbled out the rest of his boots before going over to her and wrapping his arms around her. She giggled when he picked her up, spinning her around for a second and set her down before kissing her. “When did you get back?” he asked when he finally stopped, keeping his arms around her waist.

“This afternoon, you were out,” she said.

“Helping some instructors,” he said excusing himself.

“I see. Would you like dinner?”

“Please,” and finally let her go following her dutifully into the kitchen. He sat at the table knowing better than to get in her way lest he get a scolding from that sharp tongue of hers. It had been about five years since he first met her, that annoying girl who didn’t want to be a farmer’s daughter. Now she wasn’t anyone’s daughter, but was part of the Order, training to become a den leader, one of the most important people in the Order itself since it was their duty to watch over entire populations and report back to the Mentor with important information as well as handle an influx of assassins in and out of their jurisdictions as they went about their missions. She still had a bit more to learn before she could be trusted to handle on on her own which was where she’d been for the past few weeks, learning how to run a den in Baltimore from the leader who would be retiring soon anyways. Micheal didn’t have any doubt she’d be sent there once she was done with her training to take over.

He propped his chin up onto his fist watching her. Never in a million years would he think that he’d be in this situation. If someone had told him five years ago he’d be married to Sarah Miller he would have laughed at them and told them to stop drinking the ale. He wouldn’t have it any other way now though and was more than glad she was here, someone to always come home to when he got back from a mission. “Why are all the preserves gone?” she asked as she went through the cupboard after she plated their dinner and looked around at him. He just grinned innocently. “Really Micheal did you eat anything else but sweets while I was gone?” she asked him tartly.

“And ruin my appreciation for your cooking? I think not,” he said and she smiled.

“You’re going to get fat,” she told him.

“I’m not fat,” he complained, “and I didn’t just have sweets,” he added sheepishly.

“Probably a lot of butter then,” she said cruelly.

He groaned and pressed his forehead into the table, “Why did I marry such a mean woman?” he asked out loud.

He peered up when she tapped him on the shoulder, “Because you love me,” and put a plate in front of him.

“Sometimes I think I must reconsider that statement,” he smirked and grabbed her around the waist so she couldn’t get away from him. She rolled her eyes at him before tugging away. He let her go and turned to his dinner before eating hungrily. “I’m leaving in the morning,” he said as she sat down with him to eat.

“You are,” she frowned, “Where are you going?”

“Philadelphia,” he said after swallowing. “The Master is sending me and some others to go take care of a Templar problem, it must be serious because he’s sending five of us.”

“Five, really? Any novices?”

“Just one, James I think his name is,” he said thoughtfully, he didn’t really know novices very well since most of his friends were assassins like him or were at least ranked above novice.

“Do you know why you’re going besides the Templars?”

“No, the den leader will tell us what’s going on when we get there I’m sure,” he said.

“Is it first thing in the morning?”

“Soon after at least,” he said. “It shouldn’t take to long, few weeks.”

“And I only just got back,” she sighed. “And I bet you will be busy tonight worrying over everything and nothing.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” he huffed.

“I was just thinking-

“Oh this won’t end well.”

“Shut up,” and she slapped him on the shoulder looking annoyed. “Never mind then,” she said pointedly and Micheal finished his dinner before getting up and putting his dishes in the kitchen before going about the tasks on his mental list. He was just finishing packing his bag when there was a knock on the front door. He heard Sarah open it to greet them before she called back, “Micheal, it’s Henry.”

He dropped his things and went to greet the Master Assassin as well as a trusted confidant of the Mentor who handled some of the smaller tasks that were also to important to be left to anyone outside the Mentor’s circle. “Good evening sir,” he said shooing Sarah away so they could talk.

“Good evening,” Henry nodded looking old and tired. “I have this for you,” and he held out an envelope to him, Micheal took it but didn’t open it, he could look at it later. “The Master says to be leery while in Philadelphia, plenty of Red Coats and Templars are around in those parts.”

“We will be, thank you,” he said.

“That’s all then. Good luck on your mission,” he nodded and left, Micheal closed the door. As he did Sarah walked over to him with a bit of a frown on her face.

“What it is?” he asked her worriedly.

“I wish you didn’t have to go,” she said.

Micheal just hummed and wrapped his arms around her waist, “You know I’ll be back soon,” he said gently pressing his forehead against hers.

Her arms went around his neck when she spoke, “Philadelphia is dangerous Micheal,” her voice was practically a whisper. “It’s swarming with the enemy, and not just Templars.”

“I know,” he nodded. “The Master isn’t sending me alone though, I’m going with others, and they’re all very good.”

“And a novice,” she said unimpressed making a little face.

“He’s barely a novice, I can tell he’ll be getting the burn soon,” he said aware of his own ring finger with it’s burn mark and the equally permanent metal band that covered it. “You worry to much,” he said smiling slightly.

“I’m a den leader, I’m trained to worry,” she reminded him. “How else would I keep you trigger happy assassins from going out and murdering people for giving you the evil eye?” and he laughed.

“I’m glad to know you think so well of us. I’m sure you and the other leaders have all sorts of gossip about us.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” she smiled back faintly.

“Well you don’t want to know what us _murderers_ say about you in _our_ gossip,” he grinned and kissed her.

“You’re terrible,” she reprimanded him and curled her fingers through his dark brown hair leisurely. Micheal just hummed again. “But be careful in Philadelphia.”

“I’m always careful,” he said giving her a squeeze.

“Of course you are,” she said sarcastically with a roll of her eyes. “And I assume Sam Winfield is going with you? The Master likes putting you two on missions,” Micheal just nodded, “He’s trouble that one.”

“He’s my friend and will watch my back. Don’t worry Sarah, please,” he said raising one of his hands to stroke her face.

“I will if I want,” she sighed leaning into his touch.

“I know, know I’ll come back though, like I always do. I do don’t I?”

“Yes,” she said sucking on her lips. “I’m just being selfish, you have a mission, an important one and I should be glad since it’s important work to keep the colonies safe, and us safe.” Micheal nodded in agreement running his thumb along her cheek. “Spend the night with me and don’t worry about this till the morning,” she said and grabbed the message Henry had given him from his hand.

He smirked, “You act like I’ll never come home.”

“Better safe than sorry,” and this time she was the one who kissed him. It was a desperate and loving kiss.

“Okay,” he said softly against her lips and she smiled kissing him again.

—

Philadelphia was hot though no one was surprised by that, it was August after all. No one paid their group any attention and they in turn ignored them as well though five pairs of eyes were already inspecting the city. Thankfully Micheal was familiar with the city or they could have been lost for quite a finally. But finally they found their way to a mostly empty part of town where tenement buildings lined the street. The doors were all mostly brown or gray except one which was painted red, the paint beginning to peel at the edges showing the white primer coat under it. The door was unlocked and they filed inside taking off their hats as they did.

The first floor was totally bare without any sign that people even lived there at all and all the apartment doors have been taken down, the floors scrubbed clean of probably more blood stains than any of them would care to know. There was a stairwell to the side and on the second floor they found signs of life though it wasn’t what they were looking for as a woman in an ugly green dress came out of one of the rooms dragging a small child with her. She paid them no mind, as if the men in white were invisible and went down stairs.

The third and fourth floor were the same as the second but the fifth was where they finally found the den. The carpet was red and the walls were painted white. The first door was wide open and it had been converted into what looked like an office with a desk and shelves and cabinets. A woman with sandy hair sat behind it bent over some papers.

“Excuse me,” Micheal knocked on the door frame.

“What is it no- Oh, you’re here, finally,” she said looking up, a pair of glasses balanced on her nose. She’d obviously been expecting someone else. She beckoned to them, “So you’re the boys the Master sent yes?” she asked her accent flawless.

“Yes indeed ma’am,” Micheal said.

“Well what are your names then?” she looked at each one critically.

“I’m Micheal, this is Sam, Dill, Trevor and Jamie,” he pointed to each of them in turn.

“Well, welcome to Philadelphia! Or that’s what I should say. Fact is I’m up to my eyeballs in crap and now that the Templars are trying to get in on the fun between the Red Coats and those bloody Revolutionaries. More than usual too.”

“Well that’s what we’re here for,” Micheal said.

“Good show then.”

“What can you tell us?”

“Free Masons,” she said. “I wasn’t exactly sure when I sent the message to the Point but they’re are a few big shots coming to Philadelphia soon, not exactly sure when though. I don’t know much unfortunately because my informants haven’t been able to dig up why they’re here. It’s pretty big though. Some Master from France is apparently coming for this, I can’t even imagine what for. I suggest heading uptown to find out what you can, Market Street might be a good idea since all sorts of news passes through that place. Docks as well since this guy is coming in on a ship. Find out what you guys can, I’m a bit stretched thin at the moment and that’s all I have to offer,” she frowned at that as if she wished he had more to say.

“Thank you that’s fine,” Micheal said. “We’ll check the city out. Do you have a map?” she bobbed her head pulling one out from a cabinet and handing it over before they left the room. Micheal stuck the map up onto the wall with a few throwing knives.

“So who’s going where?” Dill asked looking at the map.

“I want you and Trevor to go down to the port and listen in, see if you can hear anything about a ship coming in from France,” the two nodded. “Jamie, Sam, you two get to take Market Street.”

“Awesome!” Sam said enthusiastically.

“Keep an eye on him Jamie,” he added to the novice who flushed a bit.

“Hey now I’m a grown man and don’t need no kid to watch _me,”_ Sam gruffed.

Micheal stared at him for a few seconds and then turned back to Jamie, “As I was saying, don’t let him make a fool of himself Jamie.”

“What about you?” Trevor asked speaking over an indignant Sam.

“I’m going to loiter around city hall,” he pointed on the map, “Who knows what you might hear from those people, especially with all this excitement. I’m sure there will be some sort of talk involving the Masons.”

“Bloody Templars,” Dill muttered.

“We’ll meet back here at nine, everyone clear?” They nodded and committed the path to where they’d be going to memory before Micheal took down the map putting it and his throwing knives away. They left quickly afterwards, going on their separate ways to learn what they could.

—

After a fortnight of being in Philadelphia they had a pretty clear picture of what was going on. One of the great masters of the Free Masons was coming all the way from France for a very important ceremony. What that was exactly was the part they were still unclear about but they knew it also involved inducting several new members into their Order. They weren’t worried about that part though, rather they were worried about the part of the ceremony they were still unsure of. They knew the when and where too and three days ago the big fish had finally docked at the port. The ceremony was tonight and now they were simply going over the plan one last time.

The plan was pretty simple really. They were going to get into the building through the upper windows, which they’d already unlocked from the inside before hand, and wait for the right moment to strike. The hope was that they could kill a few of the more important Templars before having to run, though the main target was the Templar from France. Another important part was to not die during this mission, that was in fact the most important part, just like it was for every other mission they’d ever been on; don’t die.

They’d checked all their gear before going out that night and were as ready as they would ever be. The meeting was taking place in a church in the middle class part of town that was known for it’s flower market every Saturday.

It was late when they finally arrived at the church and the people who would have been out and about had been forced indoors because of the rain which came down in sheets. They didn’t notice it though despite the fact that they were soaked through by the time they reached the church, they only had one shot at this and were going to do what they had to too complete this mission. If they didn’t do this now they’d probably never get another chance like this again. So rain or no rain they made it to the church. It was a small white neighborhood church with a single steeple and they could see lights flickering through the windows showing that there were people inside. 

The quickest path was up a wall covered in thick vines and they were all on the roof shortly after before parting and going to where they’d been told, going in through the top windows, the sound of any protesting hinges being covered by the sound of the rain and thunder. The rafters of the church were easy hiding spots and Micheal found a good place along a side aisle to wait where any dripping of his robes wouldn’t be noticed. 

There was a multitude of people on the benches talking in soft tones. He recognized a few of them, even a few of the lesser known rebels and even some fellows with proud powdered wigs. They were dressed in their best suits for the evening and in the front most pew was a line of men and a single woman dressed in white looking a bit nervous.

Micheal looked across the roof and saw the other four sitting like birds on their own posts their hoods down as they watched what was going on below. The audience became hushed then and made him look down once more as a man came out from the back. Micheal had to refrain from whistling because if there was ever a leader of the Templars this guy was it. He wasn’t exactly old, or at least didn’t look it and had an almost clichedly ‘French’ face. He didn’t wear a wig or have any hair at all but there was a shadow of where stubble looked like it would grow given the chance. His footsteps were heavy and slow as he walked up to the alter and stepped behind the podium. Micheal quickly looked up and signaled the others to wait; not yet.

He spoke in French and it was obvious didn’t speak English and Micheal had no idea what he was saying since he found better use in Irish, German and Indian languages so it was mostly lost on him. The ones below seemed enraptured though, hanging on every syllable. Then he reached into his coat and pulled out something strange.

It was a sphere, about the size of a grapefruit and looked like it was made of molded silver. Micheal stared at it wondering what the hell it was and what it meant. He nearly fell off his post when as the Frenchman spoke it started to glow gold along narrow channels cut into the metal. Everyone seemed equally surprised, the Frenchman included, and quickly there was talking amid the audience. 

“COME TO ME,” he looked around but couldn’t find the source of the voice he’d just heard. Once again he looked at the others, they were just looking at him wondering what to do and what was up with that ball of silver. “COME TO ME,” the voice ordered again, eerie and soft in his ear. Was he hearing ghosts? What was it? Who was speaking? Below there was a bit of disorder as the Frenchman tried to get everyone back under control. He could think about the mysterious voice later, right now was the perfect time to strike. He motioned to the others and without fail they dropped down from the rafters.

If there was disorder before what happened next was chaos.

It took several seconds before anyone could comprehend that five assassins had just dropped down from above them and in that time seven people were dead. Micheal felt bone snap under the weight of his hidden blade as he slammed it through some man’s neck and then ripped outward totally destroying his throat.

The Templars didn’t come unarmed though and many of them pulled swords. The vast majority however were weaponless because while all Templars were Free Masons not all Free Masons were Templars and all they saw were men in white murdering their comrades.

“COME TO ME,” Micheal whipped around when he heard the voice again, as if just in his ear, or maybe spoken across a great distance. As if drawn his eyes went to the master who was trying to hustle out of the church. He ducked under a sword and sprinted up to him dodging around people who were either out to kill him or to get away from the slashing assassins’ blades.

He slammed into the elderly man with force, knocking him down. The ball went flying from his fingers and rolled into a corner as they sprawled across the floor of the church. Before he could deliver a blow he was knocked off though and the man was screaming in French at him. A sword was drawn and Micheal was busily clutching his own short sword before diving in towards him. A boot found it’s way into his gut and he was thrown back. Outside the storm had gotten worse and the thunder shook the entire church momentarily startling all assembled.

It was because of that that Micheal didn’t die. That moment of hesitation that allowed him to get his wind and with more speed then he thought he possessed leapt up from his feet and buried both his sword and hidden blade into the Frenchman. The man had only a chance to scream once before he was dead and Micheal kicked his body over making it fall with a thud. Something told him he shouldn’t have survived that, that it was almost impossible for him to have survived a meeting with a Templar of that caliber. But he had. An act of pure dumb luck and he sent a brief thanks to God for looking out for him.

“TAKE ME,” he spun, his back on the carnage his brothers were wrecking and looked for the source of the voice. He could find nothing but for the ball in the corner. Slowly he went over to it an picked it up. “I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR SOMEONE LIKE YOU,” the voice was louder now and filled his head making him wince and drop the sphere. It clattered to the ground bouncing once before rolling to a stop. Before he could think the next action through he was going after it.

He was bending down to pick it up, his fingers wrapping almost clumsily around the ball when someone screamed his name. “LOOK OUT!!” he heard Trevor bellow and he quickly looked in time to see a sword coming down to cleave his face in two. He didn’t have time to defend himself. That stroke of good luck that killed the Frenchman came at a price it seemed for he was about to die.

For an instant time slowed as he watched the sword come down and he could hear someone yelling his name from a distance. In his hand he felt the metal ball pulse like the metal was breathing and from the corner of his eye he caught a glow. Time sped back up again as something crashed into his head seemingly from within and not the painful cleave of a sword through his brain. It felt like he’d just been kicked in the skull by a horse. That tiny glow suddenly exploded across his vision and the world went white as outside thunder crashed again rolling out across the city like a drum roll and he could feel nothing, no sword, not even the pain of his head.

Shortly after, all he knew was the sound of screaming.


	3. Picking Apples

The man in the wig shifted in the uncomfortable summer heat. The lack of open windows in the room did little to help in any way either and he mopped uselessly at his brow with a handkerchief. Altair didn’t take his eyes off him as he sat a few rows back leaning backwards in the uncomfortable wooden chair watching him. Sweat also ran down his own face but he ignored it, it may have been hot in this building but it was nothing compared to a real desert. In the front of the gathering of men in the hall a man drawled on about raising funds to continue to pay for an army so the war against Britain for their freedom could continue. Altair wasn’t paying attention though but was focusing on the wigged man who sat within a group of other wigged men.

He’d come across the sea less then twenty five years ago when the real rumblings of discourse between the colonies and mother Britain had started. The Brotherhood had moved part of itself here long ago as a way to get a firmer foot hold in such a prosperous new land and keep it safe from the deceptive Templars. They weren’t exactly winning that battle as the only reason the colonies were fighting this war now was because of a Templar agenda. It was why he was here, in this hall, waiting for the meeting to break so he could slip among the men and finally take out this man. If Altair thought about it he was sure he could remember the name, Samuel Huntington, he thought that was it at least, he couldn’t remember. After so long the names and faces of his targets had all sort of blended together and only a few notable ones actually stuck out in his long memory.

The meeting was drawing to a close when someone slid into the seat next to him. “Altair,” a voice whispered into his ear.

He turned and glared, “I thought we agreed to not see each other for ten years?” he growled at Ezio who was flushed as if he’d just run. He wore a beard now, a rather full one and looked like he was trying to pass as one of the Pennsylvania Dutch fellows.

“This is important,” he hissed too quiet for anyone else to hear.

“I’m hunting,” he hissed back eyes narrowing.

“I mean this is _really_ important,” he stressed, eyes purposeful. “He’ll be here later. Please, we need to talk,” and they looked up when the clapping started.

Altair growled, “Fine,” and stood up with Ezio as others did and began to talk or leave. They got out onto the cobbled streets of Boston and Ezio dragged him away from the hall. Altair snapped at him and Ezio stopped long enough for Altair to shove his hat onto his head in annoyance sending the younger man a pointed look. “Now what is it?” he demanded when they finally got to a quiet place where the bustle of the nearest street was dim. He really wished Ezio wasn’t here, the man just made life so much more difficult and was always getting fawned over by women.

“An Apple,” he said calmly.

Altair closed his eyes and muttered curses in Arabic, “Where?” he asked opening his eyes.

“Philadelphia. I got a message from a friend. They said a man came into the den with a strange silver ball. They’d talked to him before said he was a normal guy, he came back and something was _wrong_ with him.”

Altair gave a soft sigh, “How did an Apple get across the ocean? I thought we were aware of all the Pieces of Eden under Templar control. Last time I checked they didn’t have an Apple.”

“Last time we checked was forty years ago Altair,” Ezio reminded him.

Altair gave him a look, “So why aren’t you on your way to Philadelphia right now?” he asked.

“I… wanted your help with this,” he admitted. “Also, I’m afraid it might be a brother. If that’s the case then you’re the only person I know who might be able to help, you know what an Apple can do to a man.”

Altair snorted, “That’s an understatement,” he muttered to himself. “Fine,” he finally said, “We’ll go together.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me, and shave that beard, you look like a homeless beggar!” Altair snapped, Ezio only laughed.

—

Their arrival at the Philadelphia den was unannounced and unexpected. The den leader was dealing with a whole group of novices when they showed up, giving them a run down of the city and how to best avoid the authorities and the war going on outside. When she saw them however she shooed them all away.

“Well, I wasn’t expecting you boys here,” she said giving them both an eye, “Especially not such attractive ones.”

Altair rolled his eyes, “We’re here on business ma’am, if you would,” he said.

She giggled, “Of course, you must forgive me. It isn’t every day I get two Masters under my roof at the same time, the Mentor just sends one or usually none. What can I do for you?” she leaned on her desk.

“We’re here on orders, looking into a strange case. Perhaps you could enlighten us?” Ezio said sensing Altair’s growing irritation.

“If I can I surely will,” she said.

Altair closed the door before Ezio spoke again since neither of them wanted to be overheard. “We got word that a man came here, a few weeks ago by now, he had a silver ball with him, about the size of a grapefruit. Do you remember that?”

She looked away, “Yes, I do,” she sighed, “Unfortunately. Poor kid was all shook up from what happened.”

“What happened?” Ezio pushed.

“He and some others were here to take out some Templars. They went out and only he came back. He said everyone was dead, just… everyone. I tried to get him to tell me and he wouldn’t. He only stayed for a day before he left, took that weird ball with him.”

“Did he say anything about the ball?” Altair asked.

“No, not that I could get out of him at least. Wouldn’t let me touch it either. It was very strange, about as much as that he didn’t have a single scratch on him. He told me he’d escaped from a blood bath but not one wound. I thought it was mighty weird, I even had an informant go down to the church where it happened. From what he told me there were just bodies everywhere, all of them dead. Thankfully he got there before the authorities so was able to strip our brothers of anything incriminating or that would give our enemies the leg up on us.”

“Do you know where he went?”

“No, I assume back to the Point but I’m not sure. He didn’t seem to keen on going home. Poor kid, he looked like he could have used some rest after what he’d been through.”

“I’m sure,” Ezio nodded. “Uh, what room did he stay in while he was here if you don’t mind me asking?”

“The one right across the hall. Put him there so I could keep an eye on him. Little bastard walked right past, like he was invisible or something,” Ezio and Altair traded looks.

“Did he give his name?” Ezio asked.

“Micheal… I think, sorry I’m not to good with names.”

“Anything else?”

“That’s it really, sorry I don’t have more. I mean I’m guessing you’re here since he isn’t at the Point, right?”

“We’re here for a myriad of reasons, thank you ma’am,” Ezio said and they left, leaving the door open as they did. “Like he was invisible,” he said softly to Altair as they walked over to the room where the mysterious Micheal had slept. The door was unlocked when they tried it. The room was empty save for a made bed, a dresser and a desk. Like the rest of the floor it was clean and the walls were painted white giving it a very clinical feel. There was one window and it was bolted shut at the bottom but clearly opened from the top. The non ordinary opening system helped keep those who weren’t wanted out and offered assassins quick escape routes when needed.

Altair switched into Eagle Vision as soon as he entered the room and had to blink to clear it. The room was washed permanently in a pale blue. Every surface practically glowed in that shade like it was on fire. “Uhg,” he had to close his eyes after a few moments because it hurt to look.

“What?”

“Don’t go into the second sight,” he muttered, “It’s all blue.”

“Well that’s good right?” Ezio asked.

“It’s like looking into a fireplace,” Altair said gruffly and squinted. Outside in the rest of the den or even at the Point it wasn’t so bad because of the greater space. But the room was small and crowded, practically a monk’s cell, and with so much assassin traffic in and out of it the glow just permanent stuck like finger prints. It took several moments but his eyes did get used to the strange blue swath of color and allowed him to really look around.

“What do you see?” he was asked as he walked around the small room.

“Lots of blue, little else. Odd…

“Pieces of Eden usually leave trace,” Ezio said thoughtfully.

“Yes, especially when being used.”

“Well if you can’t see it in here what about out in the hall?”

“Hmm,” Altair left the room and looked outside, but there was nothing, he shook his head.

“We could try the church,” Ezio suggested.

“Go ask the den leader, I’m going to look in here once more,” Altair said ducking back inside as Ezio went to do just that. It was strange. Of anyone Altair knew the most about Pieces of Eden, he’d been looking for them for a long time, keeping tabs on the ones he knew about and when they were endangering people destroyed them. Once he’d used them and look what that got him, so he didn’t anymore, preferring to see them destroyed instead. He knew that like people Pieces of Eden left ‘residue’ of their existence behind. A trail that could be followed if you knew where to look though one had to train their sight to see it. But there was none here. Or maybe he wasn’t seeing it, that had to be it and it wasn’t unlikely either seeing as how the entire place glowed.

“I got the address, c’mon lets go,” Ezio stuck his head inside. Altair nodded and lowered his sight the blue washing out replaced by white walls and the afternoon light pouring in from the window.

—

The church was unremarkable and Altair saw it without seeing it as Ezio almost carelessly picked the lock on the front door and they went in. The place smelled like blood and for a moment they both choked. Immortal they might be but blood left to sit in this sort of heat could make anyone take a step back. Ezio grabbed his handkerchief and pressed it against his nose and mouth. “Well there was definitely a fight here,” he said voice muffled by the cloth.

“What was your first clue?” Altair asked leaning against one of the pews, head down and breathing through his mouth as he waited for his body to adjust to the disgusting smell of death, violence and gore. Ezio ignored his sarcasm and went to examine the church.

The bodies had been moved out weeks ago but the sign of the massacre was still there and the wood of the pews and floors was soaked in it and the thin rugs were encrusted with blood making them stiff and flaky so that when they walked across them a small cloud of rust colored flakes followed in their wake. “What do you see Altair?” he asked standing beside the podium his own eyes already golden. Ezio couldn’t see as Altair could though, he wasn’t old enough, nor had he been tainted nearly as heavily by a Piece of Eden as him. Altair had had his Apple for years upon years while Ezio had had his for less than a decade before hiding it in the vault under the Colosseum in Rome.

The world washed out into gray, even the blood on the floor fading into black. Without even moving from the back pew he could see spots of color though. “Several assassins were here,” he said looking at each spot on the floor, “Templars as well, or simply Free Masons,” his eyes scanned the church catching every detail, every rise and fall of color or graydation. There was the barest sparkle of blue up in the rafters, five spots that made a sort of circle around the nave.

“I see that,” Ezio said. “Come over here,” and Altair looked over at him sharply. He glowed blue, but it was dark, almost sinister, unlike the paler blue of a normal assassin. Altair walked quickly down the main aisle, the carpet peeling away behind him and throwing up a dusting of blood splatter with stuck to the soles and heels of his boots. 

“There is something here,” he announced looking at it. From the back of the church he hadn’t been able to see but up here, up close, it was obvious.

“Look at it without the sight,” Ezio said, Altair looked at him strangely before allowing the proper color back into his sight. “Oh,” he said eyes widening slightly as he stared at the spot. There was a blast radius coming from the wall centralized around one spot where the floor was totally clean of blood, while the area around it was practically caked in it. It was like a bomb as gone off here and Altair got terrible visions as he remembered some of the things he’d seen in the Apple. Mushroom clouds and entire forests being wiped off the face of the earth, entire cities going up into ashes in the time it took for your heart to beat once.

“Ever see anything like this?” Ezio asked looking at him worriedly.

“No,” he only half lied. He shifted his eyes again. “But we found the Piece of Eden,” he said. The spot here was black and very obvious and it followed the blast line of blood and was splattered against the walls like a sort of creeping black mold. “Lots of power, I’m surprised if it didn’t just turn the man’s head inside out,” he said looking around with distaste at the black smears all over the place like some gigantic hand had taken a liking to finger painting on the walls.

“What do you see?”

“… You don’t want to know,” Altair said softly eyes following each path of dark looking for a trail. “He went this way,” he said after a few moments and moved deeper into the small church. Ezio followed behind but before they could even reach the back door the front door banged open.

“In the name of the King you’re ordered to halt!” a loud voice boomed.

“Stupid Red Coats,” Altair muttered looking back as about ten men streamed into the church and made right for them with muskets which they quickly pulled up onto their shoulders aiming them.

“Should have used the back entrance,” Ezio said softly, “Someone must have seen us. I mean we did _break into a church_.”

“Yeah,” Altair sighed.

“I don’t feel like this place deserves another massacre,” he said both of them totally ignoring the Red Coats who were standing about twenty feet away looking very serious.

“You two are under arrest for-

“Hold the thought junior. The adults are talking here,” Ezio barked at the man who’d spoken and cowed him into silence. “Can we just run? We’re good at running and it’s to hot to fight,” he complained his attention back to Altair.

“To hot to run,” Altair grumbled.

“Says the Syrian,” he said unimpressed.

“Hold on a minute there you just can’t-

“Okay, we’re running,” Altair sighed and that was that. The back door came upon them quickly and Altair threw himself at it. It buckled, and swung open into the Philadelphia summer. He managed to stay on his feet before they bolted in different directions the yells of the Red Coats chasing them out of the church.

“Halt! In the name of the King!” one of them yelled and he knew he was being targeted. He ducked down a side alley a breath before a volley of shot was fired at him. He grabbed hold of a first story window and hauled himself up without a thought, his fingers expertly finding their way into the brick work and the window ledges. He’d made it to the roof before the Red Coats had even made it to where they could see him and he watched them from ahigh holding onto his hat so it didn’t blow away in the wind that came off from the port. They yelled at each other all wondering where he’d gone and none thinking to look up. He shifted position just slightly as they broke up further and went off to chase a ghost. He didn’t even smile at the satisfaction of losing them but instead turned away and jogged back across the rooftops back towards the church since the last place they’d look was the church.

He made it back inside before Ezio had made his way back, but then it was very likely he might have not have lost his bunch of idiots. Ezio had a far more flashy personality than Altair and he’d so no doubt have them running in circles for a bit longer before he finally retraced his steps and returned to the church. Altair took that time to thoroughly inspect the nave looking over everything in both sights. Other than the sprawling blackness that belayed a Piece of Eden there was nothing out of the ordinary at first sight, but he’d been alive too long to just take something like this at face value.

A blast like that had obviously obliterated whatever had been nearby the man, Micheal he reminded himself, Micheal, but what about the rest? There had been a group of assassins, five of them including Micheal. The smart move would have been to run after the first bit of fireworks had been finished but that hadn’t happened. There was no blue trail save for Micheal’s that led even out of the nave let alone the church and it was obvious that they’d come in through the roof and any good assassin knew to never take the same path to leave a place as they had to enter it. Instead all he had to work with were four faded blue pools and he frowned. Obviously they’d been killed, the question though was by what? Had the Templars done it or…

He looked back at where the black stain of the Piece of Eden had been his eyes falling out of his second sight as the horror of the situation really sank into him. It was also at that moment Ezio decided to appear looking flushed and like he had enjoyed that chase far too much. “Well that was entertaining,” he called grinning. “What is it Altair?” he asked seeing the elder’s face, his grin vanishing.

“We need to find Micheal,” he said.

“Well yes, of course,” Ezio said tilting his head to the side, “That’s why we’re here after all.”

“I mean _now_ ,” Altair snapped stalking towards Ezio and the exit. “That,” he pointed at ground zero, “Isn’t from normal use. That was the Apple killing everything in the room.”

“Okay but how-

“Are you some dumb you forget what you did yourself when you used the Apple? It was not so long as you’d like to think Ezio,” he shot him a look.

“I only used the Apple to… oh,” he paled slightly. “But I could never have done such a wide radius, and it didn’t kill anyone outside,” he said following Altair as he left the nave following the muted blue trail that led out of the place. “Doing such a thing drains your life energy,” he said trying to think, speaking out loud.

“No, it doesn’t,” Altair said and they came to a wall. “Up,” was all he said and they climbed. “It requires mental energy, vast mental energy. Those without it go mad from possessing the Apple, like my Master did, like so many have,” he continued once they were on the rooftops.

“But this Micheal character is still alive,” Ezio said keeping pace with Altair before taking an almost impossible jump and landing hard on his feet on the next roof the ceramic shingles protesting profusely. “How?”

“I did not say they _died_ novice,” Altair spat at him, “I said they went mad,” and Ezio lowered his head, now cowed.

“Than what?”

“The Apple is a tool to bend others to the will of it’s wielder. You must have a strong will to control it though-

“Or One Who Came Before,” Ezio said.

“Yes,” Altair nodded and repressed a shutter.

“If you cannot control the Apple however it will control you,” he looked at Ezio. “The previous owner must have been able to repress the Apple’s natural abilities. But Micheal? I doubt it,” he frowned.

“So what was that back at the church?”

“Self preservation,” he sighed and they stopped at the edge of a building on a street to wide to jump. “By itself the Apple is useless, it needs someone to wield it,” he told Ezio seriously. “It used Micheal to kill everyone in that church so that he would live and through him it could do what it wanted.”

“You make it sound sentient…

Altair glared at him, “Since when have you thought they weren’t?” and he jumped down from the building.

—

The track from the church had led them back to the Assassin's Den in western Philadelphia. That of course did them little good since they knew he’d been there. Ezio was the one who spotted the blue that left the fifth floor window and they both knew only an assassin would be that crazy to leave from that sort of entrance.

“I thought we agreed he went invisible,” Ezio said as they followed this sign.

“I don’t remember saying such a thing,” Altair said stopping as a pair of horses cut them off.

“But if the Apple was controlling him wouldn’t it just do the easiest thing and make him invisible? I mean it’s the path of least resistance.”

“It is still Micheal technically making the Apple do what the Apple does,” he replied and they were finally able to pass. “It puts a strain on his mind and will even if it isn’t him actually controlling the thing. Do to much and pop,” he snapped his fingers for emphasis, “brain bursts, like what happened back at the church,” and Ezio cringed.

“But it’s just invisibility. I did far more with mine, as did you,” he said.

“We’re _different_ Ezio,” he reminded him, “Our minds can handle the strain. A normal person… it’s unlikely. Not with the power streaming through him at least.”

“Great,” Ezio groaned and rubbed his face. “Isn’t that to our advantage though? If the Apple doesn’t want to kill him then that means it shouldn’t attack anyone, us included, since it doesn’t want to kill him-

Altair stopped dead in the street and smacked Ezio so hard in the back of his head his hat flew off. “It killed an _entire church_ full of people and he didn’t die,” Altair scowled. “Micheal must be stronger than most or it never could have done that without killing him too. We’re just two people Ezio, special, but still human and if we got to much in the way I don’t doubt it would kill us.”

Ezio hastily picked up his hat after being reprimanded and ran across the street after Altair feeling more like a mortal by the second. He really hadn’t been this inept since that time and letting Altair see him like this was just embarrassing. He wished he hadn’t asked Altair to come now.

Altair stopped abruptly, “Is that blood?” he asked looking down the alley. His own vision was washed out but he knew Ezio was taking in all the color to catch whatever he might overlook.

“Where?”

“That stain,” moved into the alley and pointed.

Ezio crouched down and touched it, his fingers came away dark and he sniffed it. “Yes, it’s blood,” he said and looked up at Altair, “Why? Why do you see?”

“He was here,” he said looking around. “Recently.”

“How did you even see this? Wasn’t the trace going that way?” he pointed.

“Retracing his steps maybe? I don’t know but that blood isn’t normal in my sight.”

“What is it?”

“It’s black.”

Ezio paled slightly, “Is that possible? Are there other signs? Did he kill someone?”

“No,” he said slowly. “I think… it might be his blood.”

“So someone attacked him?” Ezio jumped to his feet.

“Or the strain is killing him. He could have vomited it,” Altair said softly.

“Which way did he go?” Ezio demanded also slipping into the second sight so two sets of eyes looking for the blue glimmer. 

“This way,” Altair tugged his arm, Ezio followed without a word and they ran down the alley towards a dead end. They followed the spark up the wall without breaking stride and onto the roof where the trail was the brightest they’d seen it the entire journey. “He was here just a little while ago and if he’s failing than he couldn’t have gotten that far,” he said and they jumped rooftops following it east in a strait line.

“It’s like he’s going somewhere,” Ezio panted. “This is the only time he hasn’t wandered off where he’s been heading.”

“Or someone is leading him,” Altair huffed back and they came to the end of the buildings. “What the hell,” he stared across the street where there was a significant amount of blue and then down where there wasn’t so much as a trace. “He jumped that,” he said looking across the impossible gap.

“How could he jump that!” Ezio demanded.

“I… don’t know,” he said softly a little bewildered before quickly climbing down into an alley, crossing the street and climbing up another alley wall. Once top side they scanned the rooftops. They couldn’t see anyone or anything except for the freakishly strait path. “I just thought,” Altair said before they started after him again, “What if someone isn’t leading him somewhere or nor is he going somewhere? What if _he’s_ leading _us_?”

Ezio looked worried, “So it could be a trap? How could he know we were following him? We’re the best.”

“He has the Apple.”

“Yeah so?”

“Why can I do things you can’t Ezio?”

“I’m not as old?” he said slowly feeling like he was about to sound very stupid again.

“And?”

“I don’t… no, you had your Apple for a long time.”

“Like knows like,” was all he said and Ezio sighed.

“So you’re like a candle in a dark room.”

“Try a bonfire,” he muttered, “But it doesn’t matter. Trap or no we need to help him,” Ezio nodded without hesitation and they continued their trek across the rooftops.

—

The trace led them out of the city and quickly the land became brush and forest, the thicker Philadelphia sky giving way to a much clearer blue than before.

“I don’t think it’s a trap,” Ezio said. “I think he is going somewhere.”

“Where though? What is out here?” Altair asked.

“Not much,” Ezio said. “Farmland, forests, a few smaller towns and cities, and then…

“Then?” Altair looked at him.

“The Point?” he looked over at Altair curiously. “Maybe he’s going home.”

“That doesn’t make any sense and wh- wait,” he put his hand in front of him stopping him abruptly.

“What is it?”

“That’s blood,” he said leaving the road. Indeed on the side of the road beside a tree was more of the blood that was black in his second sight. “It’s Micheal’s,” he said looking over at Ezio.

“How fresh?”

Altair leaned down and pressed his fingers to it, “Still warm,” he said actually sounding surprised. “He’s near but…” he looked down the road and then into the woods. There were two trails. “He’s made a copy of himself,” he said, “A good one, look there,” he pointed at the trail that led deeper into the woods.

“Damnit,” Ezio grumbled. “We’ll have to split up,” and Altair nodded his agreement.

“You stay on the road, I’ll take this one,” he nodded at the woods and Ezio nodded. “If we don’t meet up sooner meet me back at the Den tomorrow night,” he said, again Ezio nodded and they parted ways.

Altair moved quickly through the woods, his steps practically silent as he moved with speed. The road was by now far behind him and the trail was becoming neither brighter nor dimmer as he followed it. He didn’t run though, no need to fall into a trap or even right into the man. He had the Apple and coupled with the fact that he was an assassin he was even more deadly than usual and Altair did not want to be caught unaware since he wasn’t immune to the Apple if it wanted to destroy him; he could just ignore the siren’s song.

He grew more leery the longer he walked and eventually it grew dark forcing him to use all of his skills to see in the darkness as well as not be detected by stepping on a wayward twig or trip over a root or some other piece of foliage. The moon rose slowly but eventually it did indeed rise and gave him more light, faint though the crescent was, other than the starlight.

As the moon reached the top of the sky he saw something. A spot darker than the rest of the shadows yet somehow also lighter, like a paradox. He approached it slowly and saw what it was. It was a man, lying prone on the ground looking like he was dead, a dark patch of grass next to him that smelled like blood. The man wore an Assassin’s robes, his hood obscuring his face in the already dim moonlight, and in one hand he clutched the Apple. He moved cautiously, listening but couldn’t hear anything, not even breathing. Maybe he was dead? It seemed likely since he wasn’t moving. He crouched by the man but didn’t touch him and finally noticed the slight rise and fall of his chest. So he wasn’t dead, but was that good or bad? He wasn’t sure.

He looked down at the Apple in his hand and it sparkled in the moonlight like a jewel. Slowly and carefully he reached out for it and with surprisingly little trouble removed the Apple from his slack grip.

He fell over from the sudden assault to his mind. It felt like someone was driving a spike through his skull and it was all he could do to not scream from it. There was screaming though, and it came from the man who didn’t seem so asleep anymore. Altair dropped the Apple onto the grass too strained to hold onto it anymore and looked over at the man. He was writhing on the ground, his body arching up off the grass like something was clawing at him and he was the one screaming, so loud his voice was already growing horse.

“Oh God,” Altair whispered in shock at what he was seeing and quickly scooped up the Apple. Again he was blasted by the mental assault but he ignored it. “Shut up,” he muttered not knowing who he was talking to and pressed the Apple to the man’s forehead. He immediately became still and once again seemed to be sleeping and as he did the Apple also stopped its onslaught on Altair’s mind.

“Great,” he muttered looking at the prone man. “What a fine mess you’ve put yourself in Micheal,” he said softly.


	4. Nothing At All

It was a long walk back to Philadelphia in which Altair carried Micheal over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. The man didn’t wake, nor move and Altair had tied the Apple to his hand with a bit of bandages he kept on his person so there was no more of that screaming he’d experienced earlier. Thankfully it was early as he walked the city streets so there was no one to stare at him. Though he doubted many would since it looked very like he was taking home a friend from a bar who’d had a bit too much to drink.

The door to the den was open and he took the stairs up to the fifth floor where the door to the den leader’s office was closed. The lamps were still burning down the hall though and he found an empty room before throwing Micheal down onto the bed inside. The man didn’t even seem to notice and appeared to be asleep except for a slight trickle of blood coming from his mouth. Altair reached over and wiped it away before opening the younger man’s mouth. His teeth and gums were bloody and he was missing a tooth though that looked like it had happened some time ago. Blood pooled in the back of his throat and with a sigh Altair turned him onto his side so he wouldn’t choke on his own bodily fluids.

Altair brought a chair up to the edge of Micheal’s bed and for a time simply watched him as the sky faded into lightness. Ezio wouldn’t return till at least tonight as agreed so he had Micheal all to himself. He rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly before looking up sharply when the door opened. He and the den leader stared at each other in surprise. “Oh, I didn’t know this was occupied, I’m sorry,” she said.

“It’s fine,” he said without feeling, his mind not even working on the current situation with the den leader.

“Is he all right?” she asked and he didn’t tell her to go away since it was her business who was in the den and who wasn’t. Thankfully she couldn’t see the Apple or the trickle of blood that was leaking from Micheal’s mouth again.

“Yes, he’s just sleeping,” Altair said in a way that meant he wasn’t going to answer any more questions and she needed to move along.

“Let me know if you need something,” she said and closed the door. 

Altair looked back down at Micheal with a little tired sigh. He’d be here alone with the kid— fuck he really was just a kid wasn’t he? He looked like was barely twenty-five, not even really, there was too much youth to his face and it was without any fine lines. This poor kid had come in contact with a Piece of Eden and it had done _something_ to him. Altair had never seen anything like this. Pieces of Eden didn’t want their users to die, they wanted to be used because using them drove the user mad and eventually caused their own warped mind to use them more and more. Eventually of course they did die though, because the strain on the brain was too much. Of course there was that last terrible option. Where you didn’t die, nor did you live. You simply remained fixed in time, unable to move forward with your life, and yet unable to end it without so much pain and suffering it might as well be better to live.

There was no fate worse if Altair was concerned. He and Ezio had become fixed, unable to progress in age, unable to finally be with the ones they loved. Altair had lost count of the times he’d tried to kill himself, or asked Ezio to. It was hard though. Once Ezio had shot him in the heart, it had seemed to work, but then nine months later he’d woken in a coffin and dug his way out of a grave with only a star shaped scar to show for their efforts. If that didn’t do it very little else would so he’d stopped trying after that. Now? Now he just tried to make this life worth something. Worth anything.

He sucked in his lips and bit down. What if that happened to Micheal? He was so young, he probably had a girl, a family, friends, a life in the Brotherhood. At least Altair and Ezio had had a chance to live before time had stopped flowing for them. He frowned sadly and leaned forward steepling his fingers in front of him. Quickly he had to remind himself he didn’t know if that had happened yet though. Micheal could be fine. He could still be mortal. He could still be safe. 

There was only one thing he could do to find out without him waking though. He didn’t want too though. He’d promised himself he’d never use another Piece of Eden again because of what it had done to him, all the pain and suffering he’d gone through because of them. It was the only thing though and he needed to know what really happened to Micheal. Perhaps it could be reversed. He’d never know unless he tried though.

Altair rubbed his face with both hands. He hadn’t slept in three days and barely noticed. He wasn’t actually tired, not in a way that meant he wanted to sleep. He was just always tired, as the world weighed down his shoulders, pressing him down and making his chest fold up on itself and squeeze his heart. He needed to know, _had_ to know. If only so he could tell Ezio what they’d be doing. He frowned and looked at the sleeping man and wiped away the blood from the young man’s mouth again before looking at the Apple tied into his hand. He sighed and cut off the bandages, Micheal kept a light grip on the Apple though so it didn’t roll away, and with great reservation reached out and laid his own hand against the sphere.

There was no visible passage between the real world and the one contained within the Apple when Altair reached into it. He simply was there. He looked down at himself and saw he has regained his missing ring finger but was not fooled. The Apple made things whole, though did so only as an illusion. There was nothing real here, as the color of the sky was any indication. It was black, and he could see the sun, but no stars, and the clouds were thin ghost-like sheets against the sky like strands of computer data. He knew there would be no such thing as computers for a few centuries yet but the analogy was still appropriate.

He looked around himself and recognized his surroundings. He was at Eagle Point, the home base of the Assassins here in North America. The stone walls were doubled and nearly impregnable and built into the side of the mountain was the main fortress if you would. It looked more like Masyaf, only on a smaller scale and built in an American style. Men and women in various dress went in and out of the building, some of them obviously assassins and some not based on the colors of their clothing. Where was Micheal in all this?

He left his original place and headed towards the fortress. This was just a semblance of reality so if Micheal was here the Mentor would know. No one stopped him as he walked in, for he was still dressed as one of them, and he found the Master’s quarters with ease. He knocked and was admitted without ceremony. The Mentor was old, with white hair and balding with a dark hood.

“Hello Mentor,” Altair said.

“Hello, what can I do for you?” the voice was without inflection. He would have been more life-like had Micheal been near, but without the holder of the Apple they were far more mechanical since there was no need to make everything as vital. Also no Mentor would great anyone so simply.

“I’m looking for Micheal,” Altair said and saw the vision waver as he asked. “Where is he?”

“He’s out.” 

“Where?”

“Not here.”

Altair sighed, of course it wouldn’t be so easy, “Is he at the Point?”

“Yes.”

He left both the office without a word to enter the wall surrounded town. “Where to start?” he asked himself softly. After a moment he figured he’d start where it was always a good idea to look for young men; the bar. It was a small and humble affair you’d expect at the Point but with quite a few people in it all seeming in good spirits as they drank and were merry. Altair went strait to the bar.

“What can I get you?” asked the bartender moving over to him after throwing a stained rag over his shoulder, his motions and tone more natural, it meant the user was near, or frequented the area.

“I’m looking for Micheal,” he said.

“Ah,” he nodded, “Which one would that be? We got quite a few of them here at Eagle Point,” Altair repressed a sigh, more tricks to throw him off his target. The Apple knew he wasn’t supposed to be here, that he was something foreign and it didn’t know if he meant ill for it’s user so was putting these blockers in front of him to hinder his passage.

“He was recently in Philadelphia I believe,” Altair said easily and leaned against the bar.

The bartender shook his head, “There haven’t been any missions to that city in some time buddy, sorry,” he frowned.

Altair thought about that a moment. So either the Apple had blocked out that part of his memory or there was thought to be some time between then and this supposed ‘now’. He thought about what he knew Micheal looked like, brown hair, brown eyes (so helpful) but there was… “He has a scar,” Altair said and reached up to his own mouth, surprised to find that like his hand his lips had been healed. “Here,” he drew a line vertically down the right side of his lips.

“Oh, I know that one,” the bartender said, “He isn’t here now. If I was you I’d go ask that man there,” and he pointed to two men at a small table both with pints of beer. “The blonde is Samuel, he’s real close with Micheal.”

“And the other?”

“Friend of them’s, Trevor,” the bartender said.

“Thanks,” and he left the bar and made his way over to the small table. “Hello gentlemen,” he said and sat without invitation. The two younger man sat up strait as he did so, not wary though, more out of respect since Altair still had the signs of a master Assassin on his person. Good to know.

“What can we do for you sir?” asked Samuel with a British accent.

“I’m here on an important errand,” Altair said.

“You need our help sir?” Samuel asked and licked his lips anxiously.

“Something such,” Altair nodded. “I’m looking for someone, I was told you could help me.”

“We will if we can,” Trevor promised, “We don’t wan’ get anyone in trouble though, ye know?” he sounded like he was from the more southern colonies, somewhere in the mountains.

“Of course, I would never ask such a thing from you. I assure you, who I’m looking for is in no trouble, I just need to speak with them urgently.”

“Oh, of course then sir, who are you looking for?” Samuel seemed more relieved.

“His name is Micheal. I was told you knew him well,” he said addressing Samuel.

“Mike? What you want with him?”

“I need to talk to him. It’s very important,” Altair said.

“He isn’t in danger is he?”

“No… perhaps,” Altair allowed. “It’s imperative that I find him as quickly as possible.”

“He’s home,” Samuel told him. “He and his misses stay at home now during the night more often then not after the baby was born.”

“I see. Can you tell me where I could find him?”

The two friends exchanged looks, “I’ll take you to him, how’s that sound?” Samuel suggested.

“Yes that would be most helpful,” Altair nodded. Samuel got up from the table leaving Trevor and his pint behind and he and Altair left the bar. “Thank you for your help Samuel.” Outside the sky had paled and Altair could see the stars as blazing golden sparks in the sky. The sun was gone and the moon was nothing but a baleful blue eye in the sky. Samuel didn’t seem to notice. Time moved differently here it seemed since he could not have bee there more than a few minutes and already the sun, which had been near it’s apex, was already gone.

The younger man flushed slightly, “Please sir, just call me Sam, Samuel is my father.”

“I apologize,” Altair said.

“It’s fine. This way,” and he led Altair through the wall surrounded town to a well built house with smoke coming from the chimney. “This is Micheal’s house.”

“Thank you, I can take it from here.”

“Right,” Sam bit his lip before turning and leaving.

Altair knocked and after a few moments the door opened revealing a young woman with shorter ashen brown hair that was already turning a shade of gray. She had a young and vibrant face, she was beautiful and if this was Micheal's wife Altair would have been jealous were he at all that sort. "Hello sir, can I help you with something?" and then he noticed the necklace around her throat. It had the symbol of a den leader as a charm on it. Since den leaders had no uniform they identified themselves differently so others of their Brotherhood would know them for what they were. She obviously also recognized Altair by his own markings.

"I'm looking for Micheal," Altair said. "His friend Sam told me he was here."

"Yes, he is, is something wrong?"

“No no, nothing of the sort," he quickly reassured her, "I just need to speak with him."

"Very well, come in," and she opened the door wider so Altair could step inside. It was tidy inside and it was obvious the women kept a clean house. But it was the clean of a den leader, which was even cleaner than usual as they'd been trained so that nothing incriminating could be found in a den that would make people suspect murderers stayed there. "I'll go get him," she said and offered him a seat, which he declined, and she went into a back room. He heard her talking and a few seconds later the man in question came out.

Altair allowed himself a slight smile as the woman followed after Micheal carrying a baby, barely more than an infant. "Hello," Micheal said and for the first time Altair heard Micheal's voice. "What can I do for you?"

"Micheal, I need to speak with you," he said his eyes now trained on the young assassin.

"Of course. May I ask who I'm referring to?"

"My name is not important."

Micheal frowned, "Tell me your name," he ordered.

"I will, have no doubt of that. Just not now, it isn't important and I have something grave to discuss with you."

Micheal frowned at that, "Grave, truly?"

"Yes. If we could have a moment alone?" he asked the woman.

"Certainly," she said and left them as Micheal came towards him.

"What is this grave matter you needed to discuss with me? Who are you?" Of course Micheal was focusing on who Altair was. He was something strange in this Apple made world and he, the master of the world, needed to understand this thing that wasn't something he knew.

"I'm one of your brothers, you have nothing to fear from me. And the matter involves you."

"Involves me?"

"Yes."

"What is it?"

"What happened to you in Philadelphia?" and he watched curiously as the world warped around them, the walls bending in towards them. Interesting but not threatening, Micheal didn't even seem to notice.

"I never went to Philadelphia," he said.

"Yes, you did. Try to remember. You went with several others to a church and killed many Templars," Altair's reminded him.

"I'm sorry you have the wrong man. I haven't been to Philadelphia since I was a novice," Micheal said though sounded uneasy and Altair looked down to see the furniture starting to bend as well. The illusion was losing shape as Altair brought real world ideas and events into this little make believe world.

"You took something from the church Micheal. A ball, it was big, like the size of a grapefruit didn't you?"

"No, I didn't!" Micheal practically yelled helplessly and it started to fall apart. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You know exactly what I'm talking about," Altair spat. "You have the Apple and right now you're lying on the bed of the Philadelphia den close to death. This world isn't real Micheal. You need to wake up so we can help you.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. You need to leave, now,” Micheal tried to push him, but Altair grabbed both his wrists.

“If you don’t wake up you’re going to die,” Altair said through his clenched teeth. “And if you do you’ll never see your wife and child again.”

“I’m not sleeping.”

“Yes you are.”

“Who are you?” he was still fighting with Altair over control of his hands and Altair was still winning.

“My name is Altair. I’m here to help you. But first, you have to-” he stopped talking when the entire illusion bucked and now Micheal couldn’t ignore it. 

“HE HAS COME.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Altair muttered in Arabic.

“What was that?”

“Wake up Micheal. Wake up right now,” Altair ordered at the young man who was staring at his house which was starting to unravel into a million threads of light with a mix of awe and fear.

“But-

“This is an illusion. You control it,” Altair said gripping his fingers so tightly they started to darken into purple shades.

“DO NOT LEAVE.”

“Shut up!” Altair called into the nothing that now surrounded them. There was no house, no Point, just an empty void full of spiraling light falling like rain and running like a waterfall over and under and through them. “You need to wake up.”

Micheal was staring at him in bewilderment. “How?”

“How else do you wake up from a dream?” Altair asked him, “You tell yourself it isn’t real.”

The next thing that happened to Altair was the fading of the world and he was once again sitting next to Micheal in the den again, his hand having fallen off the Apple. Outside the sun was starting to set and cast long shadows through the window. On the bed the boy didn’t move and Altair sighed. He reached out and wiped away the slightly significant amount of blood from the man’s mouth and neck where it had dribbled. As he did so the door opened. If it was that nosey den leader Altair swore he was gonna-

“You found him,” no, just Ezio.

“I did,” Altair agreed.

“What happened to him?” Ezio closed the door and went over to Altair. Micheal was sweating now his hair damp, beads of wetness collecting on his brow.

“I don’t know,” Altair admitted.

“You had all day with him how can you no-

“I tried Ezio,” Altair snapped. “He knows he’s asleep. Now all he needs to do is wake up.”

“And if he doesn’t?” Ezio asked.

“Then he’ll die,” Altair said softly, more of a breath of air than words.

—

Ezio made him eat. They both knew Altair would forget to if Ezio didn’t make him. Usually he did remember, but during situations like this food became the last thing on his mind. After he ate he slept, which surprised them both when he woke the next morning.

Micheal was the same, sweating as if he was with fever, his breathing a bit labored, but still alive. His eyes flickered behind his eyelids now though as if he was dreaming, or as if he was fighting and now and then his hand would clench the Apple, as if trying to release it.

“What’s going on in there Altair?” Ezio asked.

“He was living an illusion. I’m guess for what felt to him to be a while,” Altair said softly. “Months, maybe years.”

“Years?”

“That or the Apple tampered with the internal memory of the illusion. When I met with Micheal he’d never been to Philadelphia, he’d never found the Apple.”

“And?”

`“I told him what was true,” Altair said, “Like I did with you,” and Ezio looked away. “He was in deeper though. He’s got to wake up on his own.”

“Couldn’t you just… pull him out? You were in it.”

“No,” Altair shook his head slowly. “I tried, briefly. It wouldn’t work. I’ve never seen anything like this,” Ezio stared at him. “What?” he growled.

Ezio smirked then, “Something Altair hasn’t seen. Now I’ve seen everything,” and Altair growled wordlessly at him with a harsh scowl.

“You should not be pleased I’ve never seen this,” Altair snarled at him, “If I don’t know what it is how do we plan on helping him?” he demanded savagely.

Now Ezio frowned, “Not even close?” he asked carefully.

“Maybe…” was all Altair muttered and folded his arms across his chest with a slight huff. Before either of them could say more Micheal on the bed gasped and rolled over onto his back, his chest heaved and they could hear the gargle of blood in his throat as he tried to breath and swallow at the same time.

“There’s nothing we can do?” Ezio asked standing over the man his brow etched with worry as Altair leaned over him.

Using one hand Altair opened one of Micheal’s eyes and frowned at what he saw. His eye was fixed forward but it was obvious he couldn’t see Altair with the pupil blown so that the iris was a tiny rim around the dark hole. It was the color of the iris that made him frown though. He let the eye lid drop with a sigh before standing and moving towards the door.

“Where are you going?” Ezio demanded.

“He’s going to wake soon. He’ll be hungry, and thirsty no doubt.” Altair said.

“What?” he just seemed confused by that. “How do you know?”

Altair opened the door but didn’t walk through just yet. His back to Ezio he said, “Because he looks the same as when I found you, boy,” and then he left, closing the door quietly behind him.

—

He heard the yelling from the first floor when he returned. It was a gut wrenching scream that faded quickly into a harsh, dry throated yelling. It didn’t make Altair run up the stairs though. At the fifth floor he saw several people crowded around the door of the room he’d chosen, but the door was closed and that was where the yelling was coming from as well as some banging.

“Excuse me,” and he shoved through the crowd of assassins, “You all need to leave,” he said standing with his back against the door. There was some muttering but all by the den leader did leave.

“What’s going on in there?” she demanded.

“Nothing you need to worry about ma’am, we have it under control,” he promised. She gave him a leery look over her spectacles before going back to her office. Someone inside shouted but it was wordless. Once the den leader was safely in her office Altair went inside.

The room had been torn apart and at the center of the chaos was Micheal with Ezio laying on top of him, no doubt pinning him. Micheal was yelling for the Italian to get off him and Ezio was yelling at him to shut up because he wasn’t in any danger. Neither, of course, were listening, and Altair sighed as he closed the door and righted a nearby table to put the bag of food somewhere so it wouldn’t be trampled by accident.

“Thank God you’re back,” Ezio growled to Altair who walked over calmly to the flailing American and crouched.

He grabbed the young man by the chin, “Micheal, it’s all right,” he said gently and the kid froze.

“Oh my God. You’re real,” his eyes became as big as dinner plates and he abruptly stopped struggling.

“Let him up Ezio,” Altair said and sat back on his haunches. Ezio rolled off him and into a kneeling position. “Hello Micheal,” he said who was still laying there staring at him. “Get up boy, you’re not dead, or a fish,” and he stood.

Micheal scrambled to his feet and before he seemed to be able to help himself he reached out and grabbed Altair with one hand on his shoulder the other used to press his fingertips firmly against Altair’s cheekbone still looking amazed. “I thought you were a dream,” he said.

“I am not,” Altair said. “And you are hurt, sit,” Micheal sat on the bed which Ezio had put right again without even thinking of defying him. “Take off your shirt,” he ordered and a few seconds later he was sitting there with just his pants and boots on. “Ah, well that’s where the blood was coming from,” Altair said and gently touched the already fading bruise on his flank from where ribs had broken and started to puncture his lungs. “Open your mouth,” Micheal did. “Why don’t you follow my orders as well as Micheal?” Altair asked Ezio who sent him an annoyed glare. He looked back at Micheal and was satisfied that while there was blood on his teeth and gums no more was bubbling from his throat. “Good, you can put your clothes back on,” Altair turned away from him and grabbed the bag of food he’d brought and tossed it into the American’s lap. “Eat,” he instructed turning towards Ezio.

“So?” Ezio asked.

“ _He’ll be fine_ ,” he said speaking Italian for the sake that he and Ezio could talk and not be overheard.

“ _What happened? He just woke up, freaked out, and attacked me.”_

 _“As you did to me if I remember,”_ Altair bobbed his head slowly and Ezio flushed.

_“He calmed right down when you showed up. Why?”_

_“He saw me in there. He knew me. You were a stranger.”_

_“Oh…”_ they were both silent for a time. “ _Is he—?”_

 _“Yes,_ ” Altair said softly and they both sighed.

“Altair,” they looked over when Micheal spoke Altair’s name. “What’s going on?” he sounded afraid and confused.

Altair gave him a small comforting smile, “Don’t worry Micheal. Everything will be okay,” he reassured him.

“Who’s that?” he was looking dead at Ezio.

“Ezio, he is a friend.”

“Oh, okay,” and watching them both from the top of his eyes went back to his food, no doubt listening but obviously not able to understand.

“ _What are we going to do with him? People have seen him. They know he’s alive,”_ Ezio said, “ _It was easy to fake my death. But this,_ ” he looked over at Micheal warily.

“ _I don’t know yet,_ ” Altair said.

“ _He’s so young,_ ” he saw the mourning in Ezio’s face already. Altair might have felt bad for Micheal but Ezio felt the boy’s pain as his own. He always did have far too big a heart.

“ _We’ll think of something,_ ” Altair promised.

“ _We’ll have to. We don’t really have a choice,”_ Ezio scoffed.

_“Where’s the Apple?”_

_“I don’t know, it went flying when he woke up and attacked me,_ ” Ezio shrugged.

Altair rolled his eyes in annoyance, “Micheal, where’s the ball?”

“What?”

“The ball you had. Where is it?”

“How would I know?” and he took a large bite out of a pear, the juices running down his chin.

“You know. Where is it?”

Micheal blinked and for a second looked far away, “Under there,” he pointed to the desk which had also been over turned.

“ _How did he know that? What’s going o- Altair!”_ Ezio snapped the last bit when the older man ignored him and rummaged in the mess before finding it quickly.

_“What do you hear Ezio?”_

_“Excuse me?”_ and he rose a single brow.

 _“Right now. What do you hear?”_ Altair said holding the Apple in one hand. Micheal continued to munch his pear, looking between them both in the talking and the silence.

After a few seconds Ezio sighed, _“Nothing Altair. I hear nothing except Micheal eating. What should I be hearing?_ ”

“ _The Apple. It’s quiet,”_ and he looked at the sphere. “ _It recognized me when I named myself earlier. It reacted… Now—_ ” he frowned. “Micheal, catch,” he called and tossed the ball. Micheal reacted on instinct and snatched it from the air. He immediately dropped it when it glowed softly and they all heard the harsh and sharp, but whisper soft like an echo in their heads as the Apple reacted.

 _“It worked for him_ ,” Ezio said and scooped up the Apple. There was no reaction.

“What the hell was that!” Micheal cried and they both finally looked at him again where he’d pressed himself to the far side of the bed.

“This just gets better and better. Doesn’t it Ezio?” Altair asked and Ezio just sighed.


	5. I've Had Friends

He probably should have been afraid. Probably, but he wasn’t. In fact Micheal barely realized he should at all. He looked at the two older men as they talked in some language he wasn’t privy to, but it sounded like a romantic. He looked down into the sack Altair had brought and pulled out another pear. He liked pears. Also resting in his lap, along with the sack, was the golden ball that looked much like an orange, or a grapefruit. After the initial shock of it’s reaction, and Altair’s kind words to calm him, he wasn’t wary of it. In fact it’s nearness was comforting.

Altair didn’t tell him why it reacted, or even what it was, but he trusted the older man. The man had literally appeared in his dreams and taken him from death’s door. He knew that now at least, that he would have died if he’d stayed there.

There was an abrupt end to the conversation in front of him as Micheal licked his fingers of the remaining pear juice. He looked at them both anxiously, knowing that they were his elders and betters in all ways. He could tell that just by looking at them, and that was without the subtle, but distinguishing marks (to those who knew were to look) of Master Assassins upon their jackets. But there was something more to them that he could almost taste like the taste of the pear, something old and powerful and unrelenting as stone. 

When they turned their eyes onto him he felt very small and swallowed when their eyes turned golden, looking at him with new eyes. But it was not for fear. No, for Micheal did not fear them, he knew they wouldn’t harm him. He didn’t know how, but he knew. It was for anticipation.

The older one sighed and his eyes faded back to brown. He looked familiar to Micheal but couldn’t remember why. Not as Altair looked familiar, but more like he’d seen him many times in passing but did not know his name. “It really is a shame,” he said.

“What is a shame?” Micheal felt himself ask, still without fear.

“You,” Altair said gravely.

Micheal blinked, “You have explained nothing,” he stated.

“He should know what life now is to him, Altair,” said the other man looking at the younger man who Micheal knew was… older. But that made no sense. Altair was still looking at him with golden eyes, ones without pity, more, sadness. Why was Altair sad? Had he somehow disappointed his savior?

“How do you feel Micheal?” he asked and finally his eyes faded back to amber.

“Fine,” Micheal said, “and hungry.”

Altair gave a soft snort of amusement, “I assume you would be,” he turned to the other, “Ezio, go get our little brother something else to eat.”

“Why do I hav-

“Ezio,” Altair’s voice was sharp and there was confusing the fact that though Altair looked younger he was the one with the power and control.

Ezio half glared at Altair before leaving… EZIO!

“You’re the Grand Master!” Micheal suddenly yelled and pointed at Micheal. He’d been stupid. Stupid stupid stupid! Now he knew how Ezio was familiar! He’d seen his face behind the Mentor’s desk for years and years. The Ezio before him now was older though and… wait, how was this the same man?

“Ezio, go, before he feints,” Altair said and with an amused smirk Ezio, the great Grand Master Ezio, left. “Micheal,” Altair was before him again and Micheal looked up, he felt like he’d just looked upon a god. And who was Altair, to make one of the greatest Mentors of the Order come to heel? “A bird will come shit in your mouth if you don’t close it boy,” he said mildly and Micheal realized his mouth was agape in awe and shock. He quickly snapped it closed.

“I think I’m still dreaming,” he said softly.

“You are not,” Altair said firmly. “This life is real, unlike that one the Apple created for you.”

“Is that… was that really the Grand Master Ezio?” he asked.

“Yes,” Altair said calmly.

“How is he alive? He ran the Order centuries ago.”

Altair gave a long, drawn, tired sigh and pulled a chair from the table and set it in front of Micheal. “We are going to have a long talk Micahel,” he said quietly, again he seemed sad. Micheal didn’t get it, and he was used to understanding. “First. You died.”

Micheal blinked at him, “No I didn’t,” he said.

“You did,” he said in a calm voice, as though he already knew everything Micheal would say.

“But, I still draw breath. I still eat. Is this heaven? If so does that mean you’re an angel?”

Altair seemed amused, “I am no angel,” he said, “nor is this heaven. You are still in Philadelphia. But you died, the Apple brought you back.”

“The what?”

“This,” and Altair reached into his lap and pulled out the ball. “This is the Apple, a very powerful artifact. It can do many things, many great, amazing, and terrible things. It was what stole your life and breathed it anew into your body.”

“So… I am undead?”

“No, you are alive as any other man. You can think, and feel, and get hurt, you can still die. But you will never stay dead. You are immortal. I am like you. Or rather, you are now like I, and Ezio. We are also like you, we have also fallen prey to this fate the Apple has now given you.” He paused, to see if Micheal had anything to say, but his tongue had become very heavy and his mouth dry. “This feeling you have now, this empty feeling of hunger, it is something Ezio and I both know. It comes after you awake from your last life, for you have just burned through enough calories to roast a turkey.”

“Enough what?” the foreign word was enough to awaken Micheal’s tongue.

Altair sighed as though he, himself was a moron, “It is… energy,” he said almost helplessly, as though there was so much Micheal didn’t know, or ever would. “It is what runs your body. This energy digests food, makes your muscles work, keeps you warm. You expel and use this energy through activity, and have to get it back by eating. Does that make sense?” for some reason Micheal had a feeling Altair was babying him. Still, he nodded. “Awakening burns up much of this energy, it leaves your body starving, craving, and as I think it was some time since your last real meal it burned up perhaps more than it should have for I thought I got you enough to sustain yourself,” he frowned a little.

“So I will feel this way all the time?”

“No, only when you Awake,” and Altair rolled the Apple between his fingers as he spoke. “When you die, and I would advise not doing that, you go Under, a state between death and life where your body recreates itself. That is what uses the energy. When you Wake you will feel like this, though less so than now, since I don’t know how long since you’ve actually eaten.”

“How often will I die?” the idea was actually terrifying.

“However often you screw up,” Altair said and Micheal paled. “You will not age, you will not get sick, you will not die, but you can still be killed. When you do, depending on your way of death, it an be the most painful feeling you have ever felt, or, you will simply slip into oblivion. Try not to die around others, they have the nasty habit of burying you,” he got the feeling Altair had been buried several times and Micheal felt his pulse quicken. But again there was no fear, but shock, and the rush of adrenaline. “When you Wake it will be without scar as well, so don’t be surprised if you die from a stab wound you Wake without,” he shrugged. “Do you have questions?”

“How old are you? Are you older than Ezio?”

Altair gave a half amused smirk, “I am very old,” Altair said softly, “Older than Ezio, much older. I am older than even Ezio believes me to be, and there are ancient trees in this world that were saplings when I was a mortal,” and now, now Micheal felt fear. Not a fear for his life, but a great sense of insignificance as he looked into Altair’s eyes. This was a man, an Assassin, who had seen empires rise and fall, seen wars come and go. He wondered what he thought of the Colonies and their Revolution. He wondered how many men he’d killed. He had to advert his eyes or else he feared he would go mad from looking into the eyes of a god, one without the fear of death and could probably wield a sword like no one Micheal had ever seen. “If you’re lucky, I will tell you some of my stories, as I have told Ezio,” and he glanced up, Altair no longer seemed the unmovable, god-like, monolith he had been only a second prior. Now he seemed simply a man. A man with a great many stories to tell.

“You are like Ezio and I, but, you are not as well,” Altair continued. “You are something I have not seen,” he frowned a little. “I am old, the Apple likes things that are old,” he rolled it in his hand. “When I was with you in that dream of the Point, you heard it, didn’t you? You heard it speak.” Micheal nodded, he had, “It knows I know how to use it, and that’s what an Apple wants, it wants to be used, to have purpose.”

“Is it alive?”

“I… am not sure,” Altair said and Micheal didn’t know if he was lying or not. This entire time Micheal knew Altair wasn’t lying, because he gave off no air of a man who lied. Even now, in his hesitation, which should have been a tell. “But it has will, and that itself is a terror. It is also incredibly powerful and deadly. I don’t know if you remember, but in the church—

“The church? You mean the one where we went to kill the Templars?”

“Yes, that such church,” Altair nodded. “I assume there was a great fight and you were in danger, you, who could use the Apple. The Apple protected you, but did so by killing everyone within the church, friend and foe alike.” Micheal stared at him, “All your brothers in the church are dead now.” Micheal choked but Altair continued. “It also obviously did something to your mind, or you are of a stronger mind than the rest, or such a powerful display would have killed you as well.”

“W-what did it do to me?” he choked out.

“I don’t know,” he offered the Apple to him, but Micheal did not want to take it. “Take it.”

“I don’t want to.”

“It’s yours, and no one else's. It will obey no other master now.”

“I do not want it.”

“I know,” Altair said sadly. “None of us wanted this, but this is how it is.”

Slowly Micheal reached out and Altair laid the Apple in his hand. When it touched his skin it glowed faintly along the etchings and Micheal thought he heard a soft sound of chimes, Altair did not seem to hear. As Altair drew his hand back the door open. 

“You would not believe how much I had to beg that den leader to part with this,” Ezio groused as he kicked the door shut, a large plate in balanced in his hand. Micheal dropped the Apple into his lap. Micheal’s stomach growled and Ezio laughed, “The little bird is hungry I see,” he teased and Micheal smiled sheepishly. Unlike Altair Ezio’s presence was not as heavy, much more light and while Altair was not unkind Ezio seemed much more friendly than the other man.

Altair stood up from his chair and dragged it back to the table as Ezio set the plate on the table. “Come,” the bearded man beckoned, “Waking is always hungry work,” and Micheal got up carefully and walked over to the table. Altair was leaning against the wall, looking at nothing, but Ezio was sitting with him. The food Ezio had brought made Micheal’s mouth water. There was meat and potatoes and kale and what looked like cider. He suddenly felt every bit the Awakening hunger Altair had told him about. He sat and helped himself. He had just spooned some of the potato into his mouth when he looked at Ezio guiltily, shouldn’t he offer some to the Grand Master. “No, eat, you will need it,” he waved away Micheal’s concern.

Above him he heard Altair speak in that romantic language from before and Ezio answered. Micheal tried not to listen too much, it did him little good to try and listen in on their conversation when he couldn’t understand. “So,” Ezio said to him suddenly. “Altair told you about your immortality,” and Micheal nodded meekly. “You do not question it?”

“Did you?” Micheal asked, eyes going to Ezio briefly.

“… No. But I had much more experience in these artifacts than you do now.”

“Altair does not seem the man who would joke with such things.”

Ezio laughed, “He does not joke at all!” he said and cast a look at Altair, “The day I hear Altair make an actual joke is the day I know I did not truly Wake from the last time I was Under,” and Altair shoved his head. Ezio batted at him cheerfully and Micheal felt their camaraderie. Despite their differences they were… friends? Perhaps. More than just leader and subordinate.

“Shut up Ezio,” Altair growled, though not without kindness.

Ezio just grinned at the other man before turning back to Micheal who was still eating. “And what do you think of it all?”

“I… don’t know,” Micheal said. “It is a lot to take in,” he admitted. “But… my mission is over right? I did my duty to the Order.”

“Yes, you did,” Ezio agreed with a nod.

“Altair said th-the Apple killed my brothers in the church, as well as the Templars.”

“It did.”

“I should be sad about this right?”

Ezio blinked at him, confused as to where this was going, “Yes.”

Micheal put down his hands down, utensils gripped firmly, “I do not.”

“Do not what?”

“Feel sad. My best friend was one of their number, and most of them I knew well, but I feel no compulsion to mourn. I feel nothing for the fact that they died. Is that— normal?”

“No,” Altair said and Micheal turned in his chair. “Immortality does not strip away your morals or ethics or compassion. It must be the doing of the Apple. Unless you felt like this before?”

“I did not,” he said defensively. “Sam was my best friend! Now, he’s dead. I should _feel_ something shouldn’t I?” and even as he spoke he tried. He could recount the memory of what it was like to mourn, but the emotion would not come into hand. He felt nothing for Sam’s passing, or even that he was the one who sent Sam to God. Or the others either, who he was also responsible for their deaths as well. He honestly tried to feel guilt, or at least sadness. But there was nothing, just as he had not felt fear from Altair or Ezio, nor was a skeptic of the words Altair said.

“I told you the Apple may have altered your mind to allow you to survive the blast that killed everyone else in the church,” Altair said gravely.

“So this is the price for my life? I can’t even mourn my friends?”

“A small price,” Altair said.

“You would say that. You are so old I bet you don’t even remember what it is to feel anyway,” he said and Altair hit him.

He went sprawling from the chair and landed hard on the floor. Altair loomed, “If I thought it would do you any good I would kill you,” and he felt Altair’s boot on his neck. Micheal was still reeling from the punch which had made his head spin. At the table Ezio was silent, not looking at the either of them, as though he knew what Altair was doing, as though he’d once been in Micheal’s place himself. “But do not speak as if you know me Micheal, for you do not,” his tone was almost conversational. “I have suffered greatly under this burden of immortality, as Ezio has as well. Do not think to know us as you pretend you do,” and he put a bit of pressure on Micheal’s neck before releasing it and stepped away.

Micheal coughed and after a moment rolled to his feet and stared at Altair. Again without fear, he could not find it in himself to be afraid of Altair, but not because the man wasn’t intimidating (because he knew he was) but because much like the loss of his brothers he… just didn’t feel it. He grabbed onto the chair and pulled himself up so he was sitting on it. “My apologies,” he said when he was seated once more.

There was a silence that Micheal knew was awkward, but he felt no need to break it. “There is more though,” Ezio finally said once he’d decided the silence had stretched out long enough. “What I say may not be what you want to hear, but it is your reality now,” Micheal looked at him silently. “Your life is over now. The one you had before is lost to you now,” he saw Micheal’s incomprehension. “You can never return to the Point, nor can you see or speak with anyone you have met up till now.”

Micheal felt his face drain of blood. “But, I have a wife!” he cried, “I can’t just leave her-

“You must, and you will,” Ezio said firmly and Micheal knew that as much easier Ezio probably was to deal with, how much mellower and approachable that he was not a man to be denied any more than Altair. “It is a kindness to you and everyone you know if you simply forget them.”

“I don’t understand,” Micheal said helplessly.

“Do you know what it’s like to watch the woman you love grow old boy?” Altair asked and Micheal looked at him where he leaned against the wall. “Or to bury your children?” and he felt his blood run icy with a fear that wasn’t fear. “Or for your lover to age and yet you stay eternal and their love turn into hate?”

“It is a kindness,” Ezio said again drawing his attention. “It may hurt now, but we have both suffered through the agony of it. We do not grow close to others, we are not known,” and now Micheal saw the horror of their immortality and why the two seemed more than friends more of brothers, but also commander and follower. They were literally all they had in this world, the one thing in their lives that would never leave them, would never become old, would never die. He felt the grip of mortality on his heart, not his own mortality, but Sarah’s, the woman he loved and had wanted children from.

“I… I do not agree,” he said with a heavy voice.

“We know,” Ezio said sadly, “It is not something easy to accept. Altair had to watch me make mistakes we’re now trying to keep you from Micheal,” he said gently.

“What did you do?” Micheal asked.

“I did not listen. I found the woman I loved,” his voice was soft and Micheal leaned close to hear. “I had a daughter,” he smiled painfully. “I watched my Sophia grow old. I tried to maintain the illusion of age. I bleached my hair, restricted my own movements, but she became old and long past the time I should have died I yet still lived. I got to bury my love,” he was speaking merely as a breath now. “Then I got to bury my daughter.”

“He finally realized the wisdom of my words after that,” Altair spoke up. “He left his family, what remained of it. Grandchildren, a few nieces and nephews, his sister, his students in the Order.”

“It is a hard path to take.”

“Do you regret not listening to him?” Micheal asked.

“Every day.”

Micheal looked down at the table, as though he could burn a hole through the wood. “I don’t agree,” he said again. “I want to see my wife,” he looked at Ezio defiantly.

“We’re only-

“Let him,” Altair suddenly said. “I allowed you to make your choice Ezio. If he wishes to ignore our wisdom, than I won’t stop him from returning to the Point.”

“Altair you can’t mean that,” Ezio twisted to look at Altair.

“I do.”

“You would let him walk our path?”

“He already does,” Altair said, arms folded across his chest. “He know of his lack of mortality and he said himself, he does not _feel_ ,” the say he said it was like a brand on Micheal’s skin. “If we wants to return to his wife, it is his mistake to make. And when he’s ready to listen, we’ll be here.”

“You make it sound as though my wish is bad.”

“It is not,” Altair admitted. “But we know what pain you will suffer. We do not want you to do so.”

“You don’t know me,” Micheal said defiantly. Altair smirked a little and Micheal had a feeling Altair knew a great deal about him actually.

“I know enough, boy,” he said. “You’re going to return to the Point?” Micheal nodded, “Fine. Ezio where will you go?”

“I was going to head to New York if this turned into nothing,” he admitted, “I’ve heard things.”

“Very well. I return to Boston than. One of those Sons of Liberty still has an appointment with my blade.”

“That’s it than?” Micheal asked, suddenly feeling lost in what was going on.

“You do not want our wisdom, we have no reason to keep you close if you desire to be elsewhere. We are not your nannies. When you decide to heed our advice, do not hesitate to seek us out. But until you wish to listen we are done here.”

“What happens if I die?” Micheal asked quickly.

Altair’s smile was hard, “Do not die.”

“But if I do,” he said.

“I would suggest running, honestly,” Ezio said thoughtfully. “I’ve never had to deal with dying without Altair around, in fact he’s been the cause of several of my deaths—

“You deserved it,” Altair interrupted mildly.

Ezio didn’t disagree, “But usually when someone rises from the dead it leads to priests being called, mobs, it isn’t something I fancy to experience, or wish upon you.”

“Unless you want to come with us?” Altair said lightly. “We really do just want what is best for you Micheal. You are one of us now. We are not cruel, but we do have the best intention though what we say may seem cruel to you.”

Micheal looked at them both, not knowing what to do. He knew that if he went with them he would learn things he wouldn’t otherwise. He could sense great wisdom in them both, knowledge beyond anything he could understand now. He’d seen a glimpse of it when Altair had explained the calorie-energy. But these men were strangers to him, coming into his life violently with more than a few confusing words and turned his life inside out. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe them, because he did, he was just wary. Though a strange feeling gripped him that if he let them leave he would regret that.

Another thought shot through him. He himself had confessed that he did not feel. He did not feel fear, nor grief, nor the agony of loss, and even before he hadn’t felt hungry until food was presented to him. Would it be the same with Sarah? He knew he loved her. He knew he did. But… what would he do when he saw her again? Would he still love her? He recalled her face, framed with brown hair and the intelligence in her eyes as well as the stubborn set of her mouth when he was being foolish, as he did whenever he was away and missed her. Usually the image sustained him and filled him with a lifting feelings.

Now he felt nothing.

“Micheal, are you all right?” Ezio suddenly asked and he realized he was clutching the table so hard his arms were shaking. He looked at Ezio hopelessly, Ezio just furrowed his brows. “Is everything all right?”

“No,” he said softly and suddenly pressed a hand to his face. “That Apple is truly a wicked thing,” he whispered.

“It is,” Altair agreed. “Now make your decision, will you come with us? Or return to your wife?”

He pulled his hand away and looked at Altair. Altair did not look like he loved the words he spoke, in fact he looked as though he knew they were rotten and retched and that no man should have to make the choice they were asking him to make. But still he was not swayed from the choice he was making Micheal make and knew that whatever he chose the older man would let him do it, even if he thought it was a mistake and Micheal would get hurt in the end.

“I will go with you,” he said.

“Good,” Ezio said as Altair nodded.

“But. Can I see her, one last time?” he asked helplessly, the two elders traded looks.

“As I said, we are not cruel,” Altair said softly. “One last time, than you must turn from her. Can you do that?”

“Yes,” he said with more than a little bitterness in his tone.

“Than we leave tomorrow. But today, rest. Both of you,” he looked at Ezio as well who did not argue. “And finish your food, it is wrong to let it go to waste,” and Micheal was suddenly reminded once more of his hunger and his emotions before flickered away in wake of his Waking hunger.


	6. Three Birds of Prey

Micheal entered the Point alone. Altair and Ezio waited for him down the path, out of sight of even a less than casual observation by another Assassin. Through the distance Micheal could feel the presence of the Apple, _his_ Apple. During their journey from Philadelphia Altair and Ezio had explained much to him, about the Apple and other artifacts like it, and those who made them. They also expanded his sight of the world beyond the war against the British or the current war with the Templars. He’d been right. The men were terribly wise and had much to teach him. He doubted they’d ever run out of wisdom. Altair had it now. He said no hands, not Templar or Assassin could possess the Apple, even if it would only work for Micheal now. He would keep it safe for him.

The Point was familiar to him as he led his horse, not Clipper, through the buildings. He did not head to the seat of the Mentor however but headed towards his own home. Altair had said that they would give them till sunset, which was in a few hours. But after he had to come back to them, if he didn’t, they would leave him.

He practically jumped off his horse when he stopped in front of the familiar building that was his and Sarah’s home. He stood before the door, staring at it, a slight wash of anxiety washed over him and then he knocked. He knew he shouldn’t. It was his home! But he felt disconnected from this world now.

The door opened slowly, “Hello?” said a familiar voice as it did so. Micheal surged forward and he swept Sarah off her feet before the door was even properly open. She gave a startled cry and then he set her down. “Micheal?” she asked breathlessly and without answering he kissed her. She kissed him back with all the passion she could muster. Micheal’s own heart did not flicker with the normal affection he would have felt for her. His heart was more like a stone in his chest.

He pulled away and she cupped his face, a brilliant, beautiful smile spreading across her face. There were a few more gray hair in her hair, but she’d been going gray early like her father before her. “Hello my love,” he said though inside he felt nothing. He cupped one side of her face, his other arm around her waist.

“I was afraid you’d never return,” she said and she glowed. “The den leader in Philadelphia said the others were dead,” she did not stop smiling though, she was so happy he’d returned to her arms.

He almost choked, “I am here now,” he said stroking her face with his thumb.

“Have you seen the Mentor yet? He’ll want to hear from you.”

“No, I haven’t. I don’t plan to.”

“Why?”

“Why would I go see him when it would mean leaving you?” and he reached up to stroke her hair.

“You’re silly,” she teased him and kissed him again. “But I have amazing news Micheal.”

“What news?” he asked softly and every moment he was here he felt the life being squeezed out of him as though he couldn’t breathe.

“I’m pregnant,” and she took his hand from her hair and pressed it against her belly. He hadn’t noticed before now, but indeed her stomach was slightly swollen. “With our child.” Micheal’s breath caught in his throat. Then he exhaled with a smile, though he knew it was pained. “Micheal? What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing,” and he pulled her close and pressed his face into her neck. “Nothing is wrong. I am so happy,” and he was, he was sure he was happy. Wasn’t he? He couldn’t even be sure because all he felt was a great, yawning emptiness within him. “I love you so much,” he told her, holding her tightly.

“I love you too,” she said and stroked her fingers through his hair. Micheal kissed her neck, her jaw, her cheek, her lips and willed the feeling into being. It was less than an echo of what he’d once felt, of the joy and passion he should be feeling now. “Why are you crying?” she asked, holding his face in both hands.

“Because I’m so happy,” he said.

“Oh Micheal,” she smiled and wiped the water from his eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” now she was confused.

“I love you Sarah,” and even as he said it all he felt was an echo of his passion. “I love you more than anything in this entire world, you know that don’t you?”

“I suppose,” she said almost reluctantly and he realized he might be scaring her.

“I am also so happy you are pregnant,” hie felt hollow. A part of him knew that if he stayed with own apathy would push Sarah away and he would never truly love his son or daughter. He could see any future here laid out before him, and it was dismal and cold and alone and he’d constantly be chasing the feelings he longed to have, the ones he wanted so desperately to have back. “I just want to be with you forever, even if you’re still that stubborn girl who refused to stay in Pittsburg,” she gave him a helpful smile. “I want to grow old with you and raise our child and live in a free world without the British or Templars to control us. But—

“But?” she asked him anxiously.

He closed his eyes and felt more tears trickling down his cheeks. He hated this. He hated that even, as much as he loved Sarah, that he knew he loved Sarah, he did not feel it stir within his breast. “I am not the man who left you those months ago,” he said softly, holding her face.

“What does that mean?”

“It means I… cannot stay here. I cannot do all the things I want to do with you in my life. I am sorry Sarah. I cannot stay here.”

“Tell me,” she said firmly, amazingly together even as Micheal felt himself falling apart. “Tell me why you can’t stay with me.”

What would Altair and Ezio say? Would they condone his confession? Would they rebuke his weakness? He didn’t know, he was not wise like them. He was just himself, and his emotions weren’t to be trusted, for he did not have any. He decided not to lie to her, but he could not tell her the whole truth. She’d never believe him. “I have met some of our brothers,” he said softly. “They are great men and want me to become one of them.”

“That is excellent news then, yes?”

“They said I couldn’t stay here. They wait for me beyond the Point.”

“But Micheal, what about us?”

He bowed his head, “I am sorry Sarah. I have to leave,” and he pulled his hands off her.

“Don’t go with them,” she said grabbing his lapels.

“I have to,” he whispered. He looked up, “I love you so much, and because I do, I’m leaving you.”

“No!” she cried even as he tore her hands from him and ran back out the open door. “Micheal!” she yelled after him as he scrambled up into the saddle and kicked the horse into a swift run. He heard her call after him again, but he didn’t look back.

He charged out of the Point, the men manning the gate called out to him to slow down but he did not heed their words. All he could feel was the beating of the horse’s hooves on the dirt road that matches his heart’s pounding. Adrenaline rushed through his body, telling him to flee, to go and fly away as though wings were on his feet. Even as he rode he still felt nothing. Not for leaving his wife, not for abandoning his family, not for lying, he could not even feel the warmth of her touch on his skin, and only the memory of her lips remained of her kiss.

Eventually he slowed his horse and slipped from it’s back feeling boneless. From the trees dropped two pale shadows. “Micheal?” Ezio asked, “Is everything all right?” and Micheal clung to his horse’s bridle, as it was the only thing currently keeping him vertical.

“Have you ever done something that hurt someone you love, but knew it was for the better?” he asked in a hoarse whisper.

The two exchanged looks, “Yes,” Altair replied.

“Than why do you ask me such stupid questions!” he yelled at them both before turning away in shame and pressed his face into the warmth of his horse’s neck.

“What do you feel?” Altair asked carefully.

Micheal did not answer for several long moments. “Nothing, I feel nothing,” he finally spat wretchedly.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Altair at his side, he felt Ezio on his other. “You did the right thing though.”

“That does not make me feel better.”

“Nothing will. This is why we said for you to not come 

“Lets be away from here,” Ezio said, Micheal nodded slowly. “It will do you good to be away from here Micheal.”

He took a deep shuttering breath. “Do not call me that anymore,” he said, feeling the words echo through his bones and body.

“But that is your name,” Ezio said, confused.

“No, it was my name,” he said slowly and looked at the bearded man. “But Micheal died. Back in the church. I am not Micheal. Not really. Micheal had a big heart, I don’t even have one at all. I don’t deserve to wear his face.”

“Then what shall we call you?” Altair asked, unlike Ezio he did not seem confused by his request, but took it in stride instead. He had a feeling Altair was like that, not allowing bumps to stop him, but simply flowed over them.

He looked up and across from them sat one of the many hawks that called the area around the Point home. It stared back at him with cold yellow eyes. They did not feel, for the hawk was a hunter and did not need things like love or fear or hate, or joy. It was a perfect creature, designed to hunt and kill. On either side of him he felt the other two were like the hawk as well and knew that they would teach him how to stay alive and how to refrain from going Under or having to suffer the Waking hunger. They were hawks too and he wanted to be one. He knew he wasn’t Micheal anymore. He’d told Ezio the truth, Micheal had died in the church, there was nothing within him that had been the loving, compassionate, and passionate man with friends, with a wife and a child on the way, a man with a future in the Order. He had none of those.

“Hawk,” he said, and looked at Altair, “Call me Hawk.”

“All right Hawk,” Altair said and patted his shoulder, “Lets be off, there is much to do, and I have much to teach you,” he held out the Apple. That’s what Altair meant, about the Apple. He knew more about it and the Pieces of Eden than anyone. He would teach Hawk how to use it.

“You ready?” Ezio asked.

“Yes,” and he nodded.

“Good,” and Ezio went to get his and Altair’s horses. They mounted up and  Ezio set off in a light canter. Altair motioned to Hawk and kept pace with the younger man as they rode away from the Point. He felt nothing as he left the only life he’d ever known and felt no compulsion to look back. Micheal was gone, all that was left was a Hawk.

-fin-


End file.
